Adventures of Deduction
by Ariwholockvengers
Summary: In one of Sherlock's crazy schemes 221B finds itself housing a new guest, a 17 year old girl named Arianna. She soon learns that this won't be an ordinary international trip as she is pulled into the dangerous and sometimes terrifying world of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. *SH's and JW's ages have been changed to 27 & 31 for the sake of the plot. **Rated M for later chapters
1. An apprentice

"An apprentice?" John asked incredulously.

"You've seen how badly this town did without me while I was..." Sherlock faded off as he saw the annoyed look on Johns face, he still hadn't gotten over the whole fake suicide incident. He had just finally started talking to Sherlock again, and Sherlock wanted to keep it that way. So he quickly backtracked coughing awkwardly, "Ehem… My point is, this town will never cease to need me, but there may be a point in time when I either cannot or do not want to keep helping, so I need to find someone to take my place."

John was silent for a moment. "But, I thought you said everyone else was an idiot?" he laughed, shaking his head.

"Well, I could start the training early, _before_ they became an idiot." He said quietly.

It took John a few moments to realize what he meant, "W-wait! You don't mean a _child_ do you?" When Sherlock didn't correct him he burst out into laughter, "You! Raising a kid?! I couldn't imagine that in a thousand years! Not to mention, how would you get one? Nobody in their right mind would let you adopt, and there's no way you'd have the patience to make a child, not to mention the _sexuality_!" John paused, wondering if he had gone too far making a jab at Sherlock's apparent lack of sexual impulse. But Sherlock was simply shaking his head.

"No no no, I need someone between the age of ten and eighteen. They need to be old enough so that they can take care of themselves for the most part, but young enough so that their minds are still pliable enough for me to work with." He said, as if it were the most obvious thing on earth. John just stared. This man simply didn't realize that you can't just get a kid as easily as getting eggs from the grocery store (Not that Sherlock knew anything about that, he always sent John), he actually thought someone was going to give him their child so that he could turn them into a miniature Sherlock Holmes. Sometimes his ignorance amazed him as much as his brilliance did.

"So, you're going to look around, find a kid, and somehow convince their parents to let you tutor them once a week or something?" he asked, wondering what insane scheme he had concocted to achieve this goal.

"What? Of course not, the child would have to stay with us." Sherlock burst out, frustrated. He stood up from the couch and went to look out the window.

"And _how _exactly do you plan on getting this child?" John finally asked. Sherlock turned around, opened his mouth for a moment, and then closed it. John chuckled, he didn't even know himself. "Well, while you sort that out, I'm going to bed. Goodnight." Sherlock didn't reply, just turned back and stared out the window.

* * *

John awoke with a start as Sherlock bounded into his room shouting, "I've got it!" He sat up in a blinking, stuttering tangle of blankets.

"Huh?" he squinted up at Sherlock, blinded by the sudden light. He checked the clock; it was four thirty in the morning. He groaned.

"Exchange program!" Sherlock announced, beaming at him. John just stared, confused. Sherlock sighed impatiently and sat down at the edge of the bed, "High-schools across the world send students to different countries for cultural experience! Or some nonsense like that. And from what I've heard there's often a shortage of host families."

"And you think the school will allow _you_ to take care of someone's kid for a year?" John said, shaking his head.

"I find I can be very persuasive. All I need is to clean out some of the things from the flat that I've been told are 'abnormally morbid'," he made air quotation marks and rolled his eyes, "and have good recommendations from Mrs. Hudson!" his smile was gleaming with self pride.

"What about me? Do I need to give a recommendation?" He certainly was NOT going to help him with this.

"Oh no, you're signing up with me. We're doing this together." Sherlock said, smiling even more as John's expression grew sourer. When he started to protest, Sherlock cut him off, "You live here as well, and therefore you would also be part of the host family."

"There's no way I'm doing this," said John. "I'm going back to sleep."

"But John-" Sherlock protested.

"No. I'm not doing it." John said sternly, laying back down and shutting his eyes. Sherlock got up from the bed and stormed out of the room. "Definitely not doing it…" John mumbled as he started to drift to sleep. "No way in hell…"

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this," muttered John as he walked behind Sherlock, cold wind numbing his ears. Sherlock just turned to look at him, smiling triumphantly. "There's no way this is going to work," he said as they walked through the doors of some official school building, "Absolutely no chance."

* * *

"I can't believe that worked." John said, sounding defeated. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes, now we just have to pass the house inspection and we'll be put on the list," Sherlock said gleefully.

"Where are we going to put him? We don't have an extra room!" John exclaimed.

"We could always put a bed in the living room," Sherlock had walked up to their door at 221 B and was unlocking it. John was shaking his head. In fact, he had been shaking his head since the moment they had left the school building. As they reached the top of the stairs Sherlock clapped his hands together and said, "Alright, let's get started cleaning."

* * *

John was going through the post when he found a big yellow envelope. He groaned as he read that it was addressed to _Mr. Sherlock and John Holmes._ He didn't know what he was going to have to do to convince the world that they _WEREN'T A COUPLE. _Shaking his head seemed to be a common occurrence since he had become Sherlock Holmes' flat-mate, and now was not an exception. John opened the letter, "Hey Sherlock!" Sherlock grunted and poked his head into the room, with some strange metal object in his mouth. "It looks like the files for the kid we're getting came in," Sherlock took the thing out of his mouth and came to look over Johns shoulder. "It says… her name is…" John paused to check again, "Arianna." Sherlock snatched the paper from him.

"_Her _name!?" he exclaimed, "It's a girl? I don't want a _girl_."

"Well it's not really a pick and choose situation Sherlock, we don't get to decide the gender." John sighed.

"And she's seventeen! That's almost an adult! They just gave me rock instead of clay!" Sherlock pounded his fist against the wall, frustrated. "We'll have to cancel."

"No no no, you can't just unvolunteer! It's all set! She's coming in 2 weeks and there's nothing we can do about it." John said. Sherlock didn't reply, just curled up in his sulking position on the couch and said nothing else for the rest of the night.

* * *

Arianna sat in her room, opening a large envelope that held the information about the people she would be spending a year of her life with. When she started reading she had to do a double take, _Mr. Sherlock and John Holmes_ it said. It was two men? Well… it would definitely be an interesting experience living with a gay couple. Not quite what she had expected. She continued reading. John was a Doctor, and he used to be in the army. Sherlock, a strange name indeed, was a… consulting detective, whatever that was. Reading more information on him, he just seemed to get stranger. So she pulled out her laptop and opened trusty old google and typed _Sherlock Holmes_. Dozens of articles came up about him solving numerous mysterious crimes and even of a fake suicide. There were a few pictures of him, but they barely showed his face because he always seemed to be hiding it. Finally she came upon what seemed to be his website, _The Science of Deduction. _Reading it she came to the conclusion that he was some sort of genius. An arrogant and self righteous genius who lacked compassion, but a genius none the less. Then she decided to look up John Watson, and she found his blog. Funny enough it was all about Sherlock. The man seemed to worship him. It only reaffirmed what she had concluded from Sherlock's site. So all she had learned from both the websites was that Sherlock was a genius and John was completely in love with him. It looked as if her trip to London would be a lot less normal than she expected. This was beginning to look like an adventure.


	2. The Encounter

"She plays the violin," John said as they rode in the cab to the airport. Sherlock had refused to read or hear anymore about the girl, so John decided he would read it to him now that he couldn't run away. "So she wouldn't mind your incessant midnight playing, maybe you could even play together." Sherlock made a noise that said he didn't think so. "Now, you can't give her hell about being a girl, it's not her fault. And don't go analyzing her and blurting out things she might want to be kept private. And don't say anything that you know will bother her because you know her life story by the folds of her jacket. You know what? Maybe it's just better if you keep quiet." But John knew there was little to zero chance that would happen. Sherlock just sat there looking cross. The cab stopped in front of the entrance to the airport and John sighed, "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Coming out of baggage claim, Arianna scanned the crowd of people waiting for their friends and family. Wanting to see her new caretakers before they saw her, she looked around from the top of the stairs leading down into the enormous room. Then she saw two men, one of which was holding a sign with her name on it. She started slowly making her way towards them, trying to get a good look at them from a distance. One of the men was very tall, and everything about him seemed sharp. His cheekbones, his posture, his gaze, and the angles of his body. If that man was the embodiment of sharp though, the other man was on the round end of the scale. Not saying that he was fat, not at all. His face was just rounded, and warmer. He was significantly shorter than his partner and wore a crème colored sweater. Arianna noticed that he kept alternating his attention from searching the crowd to glancing worriedly at the Sharp man. After she had decided that she had absorbed as much as she could from a distance, she approached them. The Sharp man saw her first, but said nothing, just looked away as she got closer. Finally the shorter man recognized her as she stepped in front of them and smiled invitingly,

"Hello! You must be Arianna, I'm John and this is Sherlock," He said, pointing to Sherlock, who just nodded. Arianna smiled back and looked at Sherlock for a few moments, waiting for him to say something, he remained silent and refused to meet her stare.

"That's odd," Arianna said, surprising John, who had just been expecting a hello.

"Uh, I'm sorry, what's odd?" he asked, confused.

"I thought he'd be more of a talker," she replied, nodding at Sherlock, "his website didn't make him out to be the type to keep his thoughts to himself." She turned to Sherlock, "What, no psychoanalysis? Not going to amaze me with your brilliant ability to write my autobiography with a single glance?" She was afraid for a moment that she was being rude, but Sherlock just gave John a look that seemed as if he was asking for permission.

"Sherlock is trying to be polite, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable by revealing things that you might want to be kept a secret," John said warily. She seriously doubted that, sure that John had simply ordered him to do so.

"No, I'd love it! I'd like to see how well he does," Arianna said quickly. John just sighed and gave Sherlock a nod, who finally slid his gaze at her. His eyes were a piercing blue as they scanned her, moving at an alarming rate. He finally stopped, looked into her eyes, took a breath and said with amazing speed,

"Alright starting from the top and working down, your hair's blonde highlights are not natural but they weren't dyed blonde just for the sake of being blonde they were dyed about four or five different times all in different bright colors, you fix your eyebrows but you don't wear makeup, all these things so far normally point to high self confidence but judging by your manner of dress and the way you carry yourself this is feigned self confidence, not to mention the subject of your weight-" John flinched, this was starting to get bad. "which is not due to dietary and lifestyle choices but genetics judging by your comparatively small waist and more curved figure than a typical overweight person, and is most likely some inherited thyroid issue that at least seventy five percent of the women in your family on your mother's side also have, your fake colored contacts with an unusual array of colors add to the theory of your lack of confidence, and even though you are wearing very casual clothing for your flight you are still wearing relatively nice earrings which suggests at least some femininity which is taken away by your nails which are not kept up at all with various lengths and chipped nail polish, you are ambidextrous with everything except writing in which you are left handed, you don't have a pet but your younger sister does and concluding from the fact that you haven't texted your parents yet that you've landed you must not have the most communicative relationship with them, you are from America and most likely only speak English since you decided to come to England where you wouldn't need to learn a new language which suggests laziness and is supported by the earlier statement about your nails and lack of makeup and the fact that it seems as if you don't brush your hair, you come from a middle class family but you're used to not having enough money for certain luxuries and you have only a couple close friends because you are not good at putting in the effort to maintain more friendships because you have no problem being alone especially if you have a good book that you're reading."He stopped to take a breath but Arianna cut him off before he could continue.

"Okay, I'm just gunna stop you there since we don't have all night," she laughed, "you did pretty well except for a few things. I actually am bilingual, I speak Dutch. Also, my hair usually looks a lot better than this but I was just on an airplane, but no I don't brush it because then it goes from curly/wavy to a giant puffball. And finally, I'm not wearing colored contacts; this is my natural eye color." John was surprised at the lack of offense she had taken. Sherlock look incredulous and stepped closer, looking into Arianna's eyes. There was no way they were natural. They were green around the outside, which was normal enough, but then on the inside there was brown, yellow, r_ed_ and _gold_, certainly nothing he had seen before. Sure enough though, he saw no sign of contacts upon close inspection.

As Sherlock got closer Arianna was slightly surprised by his sudden presence in her personal space. He towered over her, looking into her eyes with his shocking blue ones. Not wanting to look like an idiot with her mouth wide open she shut it and inhaled through her nose. The smell that entered was beautiful. He smelled like… sophistication, if that was even possible. She caught herself quickly as she realized that she was leaning towards him, soaking up his wonderful aroma. Suddenly becoming very physically aware of him she looked away, blushing.

John pulled on Sherlock's arm, aware that Arianna was starting to look uncomfortable. Sherlock didn't quite grasp the concept of personal space bubbles. "Come on now, let's not invade her comfort zone," he said, "It's about time we started heading home anyways." He picked up one of her suitcases and nodded queuing Sherlock to get the other one, leaving Arianna only having to carry her purse and her violin case.

"You don't have to do that-"she protested. But John interrupted saying,

"No, of course we do, now come along." Arianna definitely liked John; something about him was very amiable. Sherlock must think so too, considering the fact that he seemed to do whatever John wanted, not to mention the fact that they were a couple. They didn't act very coupley though, they kept a friend-like distance from each other. She just assumed it was them trying to be polite. After putting her things in the trunk, they all squeezed into the back of the cab and started the awkwardly quiet ride home.

* * *

"And here we are," John announced as he opened the door at the top of the stairs, "This is Sherlock's room, and my room is upstairs." Arianna stopped,

"Wait, why do you guys have separate rooms?" John did a double-take,

"Why wouldn't we have separate bedrooms?"

"Well… if you guys are together…"

"We are NOT together!" John exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "What on earth makes you think we're together?"

"Well, the information packet said Mr. Sherlock and John Holmes… and you are two men, living together… alone…" Arianna said slowly.

"Well we are nothing more than friends, flat mates, colleagues! Anything but together! My name is John _Watson_." John said, completely exasperated. Arianna looked at Sherlock, he just seemed amused, with the corner of his mouth slightly raised. John's phone started to ring, "I have to take this, Sherlock you show her the rest." Sherlock continued into the living room, which had a couple chairs, stacks of books, and… a bed.

"Is this where I'll sleep…?" Arianna asked quietly.

"Yes, and in there is the kitchen." Sherlock replied. When she just stood there quietly for a few seconds he asked, "Is there a problem?"

"Um, no, I guess not," she said, "It's just not that great for privacy… and where will my I put my stuff?"

"Ah yes, I emptied out the closet over here," he said, opening a door that revealed a large walk in closet, "You can just put your stuff in there. Now if you need me, I'll be up in my room, but it'd be more convenient if you didn't." and with that he quickly exited the living room. Arianna shook her head and sat down on the bed. John came in a few minutes later and looked around,

"Where's Sherlock?"

"Up in his room, he seemed in quite a hurry to get out." She replied. "Did I do something wrong?"

"What makes you think you did something wrong?" John asked, confused.

"He doesn't seem to like me very much at all." Arianna frowned.

"Well he doesn't like anyone really," John laughed, "Don't mind him, he'll warm up eventually." At least he hoped so.

"So when am I starting school then?"

"Oh, um, Sherlock signed you up for all online classes…" John said awkwardly.

"Why…?"

"It's a long and irrelevant story. I hope it's not too much of a problem. We can definitely make up for and do lots of uh, fun stuff. You said you read mine and Sherlock's blog?"

"Yeah! So, do you mean I can tag along when you guys solve cases and stuff?" Arianna said excitedly.

"Yep, that was the general idea. Sherlock was actually planning on mentoring you. But I don't know if he's still thinking that."

"What made him change his mind?"

"Well, he was kind of expecting a boy," John answered, looking away, "Then we got your files and he saw that you were a girl and got a bit cross."

"Ah, so that's what his problem was." He didn't quite strike her as the sexist type. "Hopefully I'll be able to change his mind again." She said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, hopefully." Agreed John, looking at his watch, "Well, it's a bit late so I think I'll go to bed, if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

"Um yeah, Sherlock never told me where the bathroom was…" Arianna said.

John showed her the bathroom and she thanked him. Then he went upstairs. Arianna went to go get her pajamas from her suitcase and changed in the bathroom, brushing her teeth as well. Lying in bed she thought about everything that had happened that day. She would have to convince Sherlock that she was worth the effort even though she wasn't a boy. She didn't mind though.

She'd always loved a challenge.


	3. Women are evil

Sherlock rolled out of bed, putting on his robe before walking out of his bedroom. John had forbidden him from playing his violin that night, and all his stuff for experimenting was locked in a closet in the basement. So, having nothing to do, he had participated in the rare occurrence of sleep that night. He didn't like how friendly John was with the girl, knowing his reputation for flirting with every woman that crossed his path. It didn't occur to him that age difference made that highly improbable, because he tended to be unreasonable when he was jealous. It was his John, and a part of him secretly loathed every woman that came along and distracted him from their friendship. When he entered the living room he glared at the girl. He disliked how innocent she looked, fast asleep. He knew it was a just a façade, all the women who passed through to take away his John were evil in his mind. Then he had a thought. John forbade him from playing the violin that night, right now it was morning. He smiled mischievously and picked his violin up from next to the window.

Arianna woke with a start. Looking at the clock she saw it was eight in the morning, which meant in America it was about two. She was exhausted. Then she focused on the thing that woke her up. Sherlock stood by the window, playing the violin. He played loudly, some piece by Mozart that she couldn't remember the name of. Blinking, she sat up and watched him. He hadn't seemed to notice her waking up. Either that or he was just ignoring her. Arianna had a feeling he had done this specifically to bother her, so she developed a counter plan. When he finished, she clapped enthusiastically, relishing his look of surprise as he turned around to see her smiling widely. His expression grew a bit sour. Yes, he had definitely done this to annoy her. "That was beautiful!" she said, emphasizing the first syllable in beautiful, "Could you play something else?"

"No," he said shortly, "I'm afraid that's all I'm doing for now." And putting down his violin, he made his way to exit the living room.

"Is it really that big of a deal that I'm a girl?" Arianna called, frowning. Sherlock stopped without facing her. "I mean, Irene Adler seemed to be a pretty clever woman, and she was much more of a woman than me. You didn't seem to have a problem with her. Why does my gender make me so unteachable in your book?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, of course John had told her. Honestly, he didn't really have an answer to that. He had just painted a picture in his head of him mentoring a boy who could someday grow up to be a genius just like himself in every way. Then he had come to like her even less when he saw how John treated her. But maybe he was being thick. It would be better to at least attempt to teach her and maybe get a good apprentice than to do nothing and just have another idiot in his house. Also, if he kept her busy, it would make her have less time for John.

Arianna watched him stand there, amused by the small battle he was obviously having in his head. She saw the look in his eyes as he slowly came to a conclusion. "Alright," he said, "There are a few rules I must make very clear. One, no stupid questions. Two, do not interrupt me. Three, be prepared to be working at any time of day or night. And four, do not do or say anything without thoroughly thinking it through and deciding whether or not it is completely necessary. We don't want you doing anything idiotic, or saying something worthless and wasting our time, because you let your heart rule over your head. Too many repeats of rule breaking will result in the end of our agreement. Do you understand?"

Arianna raised her eyebrows. She guessed it wasn't too horribly demanding. Although, how was she supposed to know what qualified as a stupid question? But she didn't want to seem too hesitant, she wanted to show Sherlock that she could handle the responsibility easily. So she quickly agreed. "Good," he said, "Now get dressed, we're going out." And with that he turned and swiftly left the room. Arianna got up and went to her suitcase in the closet, wondering what on earth she would wear. Sherlock seemed to dress very nicely, but in John's blog it sounded like they did a lot of running. She ended up choosing some jeans, a nice shirt, and some gym shoes. She went with simple silver hoops for earrings and quickly fixed her hair in the mirror above the fireplace. "Ready?"Said a voice from the doorway. She turned to see Sherlock leaning against the door frame, dressed in a dark blue button up shirt and black slacks, holding the trench coat he had been wearing last night and a blue scarf.

"Yep," she said, walking towards him, "let's go." Before they had a chance to leave though John appeared,

"Where are you two headed?" Sherlock put his coat on and said,

"Out."John looked at Arianna questioningly. She shrugged,

"I changed his mind." She said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh, alright. Good for you then." John smiled, nervous. Arianna returned it and went to follow Sherlock as he went downstairs and out the door, grabbing her jacket from the hanger first.

When they were outside Sherlock put his scarf on and started down the street. He walked very quickly, and his legs were much longer than Arianna's, so she had to put in a lot of effort to keep up with him. They stopped a few blocks away at a café. She wondered why they hadn't just gone to the café right next to the flat, but was afraid it would qualify as a stupid question, so she kept quiet. He picked a table outside the café and sat, motioning at her to do the same. When she sat down Sherlock looked around at the different people sitting, and at the people inside getting coffee.

"Alright, let's start with something easy," he said, "See that woman over there? Tell me what her profession is." He nodded towards a woman who was working over a large stack of papers. Arianna stared at the woman, her mind was blank. He hadn't taught her anything but already expected her to be able to do this. She sat pondering for a few seconds. Then suddenly she remembered a bit on his website that said that could learn an enormous amount about someone just by their hands and sleeves. The woman was working with her right hand and was making notes all over the page she was reading, shaking her hand every once in a while like she had cramps from doing this excessively. Maybe they were notes she had taken and was studying, and she was a student. But then she saw the woman's sleeve, on the bottom edge of her right sleeve was a faint white spot, chalk. Then she saw something she should have seen before, she was using a red pen. Jesus, how did she not catch that?

"She's a teacher," Arianna said.

"What level?" said Sherlock, showing no sign of praising what she thought was good work.

"Um…" she started to scan the woman again.

It went on like this for quite some time. Sherlock would point someone out, and she would have to deduce something about them. The challenges got harder and harder every time. He also went about drilling into her head all the different characteristics and habits of different kinds of people and where to look for them. This went on for a few hours so that finally when they were done Arianna was completely mentally exhausted.

When they came back to the house John was sitting in an armchair, drinking tea and reading the paper.

"How did your little adventure go?" he asked, not even looking up.

"I honestly have no idea," Arianna said, crossing the room the chair opposite him. The entire time Sherlock gave no signs that she had done well or badly. He just kept asking things mechanically, and then pushing tons of information into her brain. She could see his sizeable change in attitude the moment he was with John again though, like his frozen robotic demeanor was melted when he was with him.

Sherlock didn't even take his coat off, "John, Lestrade called. Let's go." John folded his paper with a sigh and rose from his chair.

"Uh…" Arianna started as they began to leave, seeming to forget her existence.

"Yes," Sherlock said, "You stay here and we'll be back in a bit."

"Alright…" she said, disappointed. John gave her an apologetic glance and followed Sherlock out the living room. Arianna sat quietly as she heard the door downstairs shut.

Sherlock stooped down over the man's body. He was a business man in his early forties, divorced with two children, with a drinking and gambling habit. His throat had been slit and he'd been left in an alley, the pool of blood about three feet in diameter, still wet, indicating he hadn't been dead for long. As he surveyed the man's wrists he found a brand mark, like something one would find on cattle, shaped like a rose. John peered over Sherlock's shoulder, "A brand?" he said, "A secret gang member maybe?" Sherlock shook his head, "It's still irritated, which means it's very fresh. The killer did it, and while he was still alive by the looks of it."

"This is the third murder we've gotten with that mark," Lestrade said, "All important business men, but from different companies. Besides that there's nothing we can find that connects them."

"One was from a company that dealt with chemicals, the other with high tech devices, and this one's the head of a company that makes and sells weapons." Anderson piped in.

"Oh, do shut up Anderson," said Sherlock, "You're more irritating than John's ex-girlfriend's Chihuahua, and it probably had an IQ twice yours." Anderson harrumphed and walked away. "Now," he asked Lestrade, "what sort of companies did these men work for?"

John rolled his eyes.

* * *

Arianna paced the living room. John and Sherlock had been gone for hours. She had already unpacked all her things into her closet, gotten a large chunk of her schoolwork started, and even played her violin. Now it was beginning to get dark and she was getting restless. She started as she suddenly heard someone coming up the stairs.

"Boys! I've got your post!" An old woman appeared at the entrance to the living room. "Oh!" she said, surprised, "You must be the girl the boys are taking care of. Ariel was it?" she extended a hand.

"Arianna," she said, taking the woman's hand.

"I'm Mrs. Hudson, the land lady. I live just downstairs if you need anything, go ahead and pop in."

"Thank you," Arianna smiled. Mrs. Hudson was a small friendly looking woman with reddish hair and smiling brown eyes.

"And where have those two run off to?" She asked, looking around the room.

"Oh, they're out fighting the forces of evil or whatever." Arianna said, her sentence punctuated a loud growl from her stomach.

"Oh, how long have they left you here?! You must be starving!" Mrs. Hudson gasped, bustling to the kitchen.

"Um, there's nothing in there…" Arianna called after her. She had already searched the kitchen to find that there was nothing but stale crackers and canned yams. Mrs. Hudson soon made the same discovery, and then proceeded to hurry downstairs. When she returned she had an assortment of cookies and other treats that one would expect of a stereotypical old woman.

"Now," she said, setting the tray down on the table, "let's get you fed and have a little chat."

* * *

It was midnight when Sherlock and John returned to the flat. Sherlock opened the door, and froze as an aroma wafted out. It smelled like vanilla and brown sugar. Something he wasn't quite used to smelling in 221B. There was also music drifting down the stairs and the clattering of metal.

"Something smells nice," John said, walking around Sherlock, who just stood there with a blank expression on his face. He took his jacket off and started up the stairs. Sherlock finally snapped back into awareness and followed him. They found Arianna in the kitchen along with Mrs. Hudson, listening to 80's music and baking cupcakes. Arianna looked up and smiled, she started to say something but was then interrupted by Ms. Hudson,

"It's about time you finally came back!" She scolded, "What were you thinking leaving the poor girl all alone for over ten hours with absolutely nothing to eat?"

John mumbled something apologetic but Sherlock simply said, "She's old enough to take care of herself. I'm sure if she really was starving she could have popped down to the café and gotten something there."

Mrs. Hudson looked as if she were going to make an angry retort but Arianna cut her off saying, "It's alright really. I didn't mind being alone, I just got a little restless after a bit is all." Not to mention she had been a bit worried that something had gone wrong and that they were hurt, but she wasn't about to admit that. "We made cupcakes, if you'd like some." She said, smiling nervously, looking almost like a puppy looking for approval after doing a trick.

"Oh yes I'd love one," said John, taking one from the tray in her hands, "they smell delicious." Sherlock just turned around went into the living room to sit down. "Don't mind him," said John, seeing her face fall, "He doesn't really eat, apparently digestion 'slows down his mind', and not to mention the case we just left got him in a bad mood."

"What happened?" Arianna asked.

"Well, long story short, we track the guy down and the moment he realizes he's caught, he swallows poison and kills himself." John said, rubbing his temples.

"Well I guess he must not have had anything to lose," said Arianna, "those can be some of the most dangerous."

"But that's the problem; the man had everything to lose: a wife, two kids, and a nice big house."

"Wait, so what exactly did he do?" she asked. When John had finished explaining the three men and the marks, she said, "Well it's obvious then. He was must have been working for someone, someone who wanted those people dead. And the best person to use to do something for you is someone with everything to lose. If the person threatens to kill his family, the man would do almost anything, including kill himself if he were caught so that he couldn't leak any information."

"But why did he want them dead?" John asked, surprised.

"Well, if the person were the head of some criminal organization-mafia or something, he may have wanted to trade secretly with the companies. But the current heads must not have been willing to do so, so they killed them, and made sure that the person to take their place was on their side. So now, whoever is at the head of this, has access to guns, harmful chemicals, and advanced technology. It wasn't anything personal, just a power play." Arianna finished with a yawn and leaned back in her chair. It was only then that she noticed Sherlock standing in the doorway, listening intently. "But surely you already thought of this, right…?" She said slowly, finding it hard to believe he hadn't come to that conclusion immediately. He was a genius after all.

"Of course I did," Sherlock said quickly, "I was just surprised that you caught it." He struggled to maintain eye contact with her, which was a rare occurrence to say the least. Her eyes pierced into his, as if she could see straight through his lie and into his brain. He couldn't believe he hadn't realized it, it was so obvious. It must have been that sandwich John made him eat. He tried to tell him it would slow his thoughts, but he had insisted. There was no way he was going to admit it though. He continued to stare unblinking into her eyes, refusing to lose this silent battle of willpower. Arianna finally released him and looked back at John, and Sherlock had to hold back a sigh of relief.

John didn't seem to doubt for a second that Sherlock had already known this. This amused her. John was so convinced that Sherlock was the ultimate genius that he probably wouldn't argue if an alien race was discovered and Sherlock claimed he had already known about it. And Sherlock was so used to John automatically believing everything he said that it made him visibly uncomfortable when she showed signs of doubting him. He didn't seem ready to admit it though, so she showed mercy and broke eye contact first. She wondered how often he was wrong without someone discovering it. Did it really bother him that much to not be right about something every once in a while? Apparently so.

"Well," Mrs. Hudson said, yawning, "I'll leave you three to your mystery solving and go downstairs." All three of them watched her as she left.

"So," John started, "I guess we'll have to go check out the new heads of the companies."

"You have to be careful though," Arianna warned, "If they are suspicious that you're on to them, they might take poison as well."

Sherlock just stood there. This girl was better than he thought. She did much better than he expected that morning as well. But he refused to show her his surprise, instead coming up with even harder things, and simply becoming more frustrated when she eventually got those as well. So instead he started lecturing her on different aspects of the science of deduction, hoping that she would at some point get bored and zone out like John did so he could spring questions at her. But she just sat there, giving him her undivided attention, absorbing every single thing he said. She actually found it _interesting_, or at least pretended very well. He hated to admit that this actually kind of pleased him. She listened much better than John, even though her age and gender had a reputation for a short attention span.

John looked at his watch. It was nearly one in the morning and he had work tomorrow. He sighed and got up from his chair, "I'm off to bed, I don't want to fall asleep at the clinic again tomorrow."

"Okay, goodnight." Arianna said, thinking it was probably time for her to do the same. She looked up at Sherlock, who seemed to be studying her intently. When he noticed her staring back he swiftly turned around and exited the kitchen. She sighed, he was turning out to be even more confusing than she expected.


	4. Midnight Chats

Arianna lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Her jet lag was keeping her awake. It was 2:30 am now and she didn't feel the tiniest bit sleepy. She jumped in surprise as she heard John saying loudly,

"Get out Sherlock! I have to work in the morning I don't have time to listen to you babble!" a door upstairs slammed and she heard footsteps coming down. Sherlock entered the doorway muttering to himself, crossing the room to look out the window. He seemed to have forgotten that this was where she slept.

"Your boyfriend kicked you out of bed did he?" She said, smirking. Sherlock stiffened, realizing he wasn't alone.

"I think better when I talk and Mrs. Hudson took my skull, so I went upstairs to talk to John but apparently there's some 'line' that I cross by coming into his room in the middle of the night and lying next to him in bed and talking." Arianna snickered, that definitely was crossing a line in most people's books. "What's funny?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"It's just interesting that you seem so smart about some things, but when it comes to people's boundaries you're completely clueless."

Sherlock grumbled something under his breath and started to leave but Arianna stopped him, "You could always talk to me," she said, "I can't sleep anyways." Sherlock stood there, blinked a few times, and crossed the room again. Then, not at all as Arianna expected, he plopped down on the bed next to her, lay down, and began speaking. Words gushed out of him like a waterfall. He didn't speak as if he already knew what he was going to say and that he had a specific point, however. He literally voiced his thought process out loud. Talking about the observations he had made that day and all the different meanings they could have. He even had small discussions with himself in which he would ask a question, answer it, debate with himself over whether it was entirely logical, and come to a conclusion, all out loud. She listened intently; surprised that he had been so quick to agree. It made sense that he would be comfortable enough with John to lay in his bed next to him, but he didn't even seem to like her at all. It pleased her though, maybe she was making progress with Sherlock after all.

Sherlock had been speaking for about an hour now, and was shocked to look over and see that Arianna was still listening, watching him carefully. Usually John would have kicked him out by now, or fallen asleep. But not her, she lay on her side with her head propped up on her elbow, eating up every word that Sherlock poured out. He liked it a lot. He quite enjoyed being paid attention to. So, getting excited, and frankly a bit high on himself, he began ranting about everything that had ever plagued his thoughts, instead of only his thoughts for the day.

It was around four in the morning when Arianna began to notice a difference in Sherlock. His eyes began to droop shut, and he had to breathe more often between sentences. His words began to slow down, which only meant that he was finally speaking at a normal rate. Soon his eyes were completely shut and his speaking was slowed down significantly. It seemed that he was asleep. But he was still talking. Arianna snapped her fingers a few times in front of his face and got no response. "Sherlock?" still no response. Soon his speech was reduced to quiet muttering and broken sentences. Arianna smiled, his face was peaceful and open, so much different from his normal appearance. His perfect baby doll lips hung slightly open and his eyes moved around under his eyelids.

"Goodnight," she said quietly drawing the covers over them both before slowly drifting off to sleep as well.

* * *

Sherlock woke with a start. He blinked, surprised. He didn't remember going to bed. Last thing he remembered was… He then realized where he was, looking to his side to see Arianna sleeping next to him. He turned quickly as he heard a cough from behind him. John stood there with his arms crossed, looking down at Sherlock.

"Hello" he said, looking up at him.

"Are you mad?" John hissed, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Well, I _was_ sleeping." Sherlock replied. John grabbed him by his ear and pulled him out of bed. Nobody had done that to him since he was ten years old and he didn't like it one bit. "What was that for?"

"You were in bed with a seventeen year old girl! Everything about that screams inappropriate!" John said furiously.

"Well maybe if you hadn't kicked me out of your room I wouldn't have needed to find someone else." Sherlock huffed.

"You can't just climb into the bed of a girl like that and expect it to be okay! Especially if she was asleep!" John said, rubbing his temples, he was starting to get a head ache.

"She was already awake, and I'll have you know she invited me," Sniffed Sherlock self-righteously.

"Right, she _invited_ you to get in her bed and keep her up to god knows what hour babbling about every single thing you noticed that day." Sherlock just looked at him, not responding. John checked his watch, "I have to go to work. We will talk about this later," his voice started rising, "And I'll ask her about it, I swear to god if you pulled anything funny-" Arianna stirred, and John lowered his voice again, "You'll be in serious trouble." With that he turned and left.

Sherlock grumbled. John was acting like he thought he was his mother. There was nothing wrong with what he did. What did he mean by something funny? Surely he didn't mean… That would be preposterous. He knew Sherlock didn't bother with such useless activities. He should know better than to think he would try anything of the sort with her. He walked around aimlessly, finding himself in the kitchen. The cupcakes from last night were still on the counter. He slowly picked one up, sniffed it hesitantly, and took a bite. It was delicious of course. Because there was no way he was going to be lucky enough to find something she did that disappointed. He quickly ate the rest of it and was thinking about grabbing another when a voice behind him stopped him.

"Good then?" He turned around to see Arianna grinning, obviously very pleased with herself. How had she gotten up so quietly?

"It was alright." He said indifferently.

"Of course," she laughed, "because everything I do is nothing more than mediocre to you." _If only that was true_, Sherlock thought. He found it odd that she didn't realize how well she was doing in comparison to what his expectations were. Though he wasn't really helping, refusing to give any reassurance that she was doing well. And he supposed a large part of it may be due to her lack of self-confidence. Maybe he could find a way to fix that… It would make her more useful if she didn't doubt her abilities. If she was self-assured like Sherlock was her head would be clearer. Unfortunately they didn't make self confidence in a consumable form. Maybe he could do what he did with Molly when he wanted something from her and just shower her in compliments.

"Uhm, no, it was… very nice. Good work." Sherlock said, forcing a smile.

Arianna blinked, slightly stunned. Though it was obviously forced, it was the first smile she'd seen on Sherlock's face since she'd arrived. He wasn't lying, but there was another motivation behind this complement and she knew it. She would have said something about it, but it was then that she noticed that he was actually quite handsome. So she turned into red stuttering mess instead.

"Th-thank you," she said, tripping over her words. Sherlock's smile turned into more of a smirk, and she flushed even redder, embarrassed. He was doing this on purpose, and he was definitely enjoying it. Arianna found this very annoying. Too afraid to attempt saying anything else, she turned quickly and left the room.

This wasn't quite what Sherlock had been expecting. He had expected the blushing and the swooning; it was the reaction he always received from Molly. Apparently his features were considered attractive. At least he had heard as much. But he didn't expect her to get angry. She must've known he wasn't just complementing her because the cupcakes were good. She was sharp. He'd have to work harder next time to make it seem more genuine. He sighed. He didn't like it when things turned out to be harder than he expected. Unless it was a case of course.

* * *

When John came back from work he found Arianna reading in the living room. Sighing, he sat down in the chair opposite her. He really didn't want to have this talk. Arianna looked up and smiled at him.

"Have a nice day at work?"

"About as nice as it gets," John said. Working at the clinic was definitely very dull. "I uh, wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah? What about?" Arianna closed her book and brought her knees to her chest.

"Uhm, well, it's about Sherlock. I just wanted to make sure nothing funny happened." John said awkwardly.

Arianna turned red. Did he somehow know about this morning? "Uhm," she stuttered, "I mean… if by funny you mean… I thought it was a bit weird that…"

"So he did pull something last night! I knew it." John said angrily.

"Wait. Last night?" Arianna was confused, "Oh! You mean the whole bed incident! No no no. Nothing happened. He just talked, and I listened. And then he fell asleep while talking," she laughed, "It was really quite adorable actually." She paused, coming to full realization as to what John thought had happened, "OH! You thought, that he, that we. Noooo." Shaking her head vigorously she laughed again.

John breathed a sigh of relief, "Good, I thought for sure..."

"Would you expect that kind of behavior from him?" Arianna said cautiously. For all she knew, Sherlock had a whole other side to him, one that John was scared of letting near her.

"No, of course not. I don't think Sherlock has ever even kissed a girl, or even wanted to," John said, shaking his head.

"Really?" Arianna asked, fascinated, "How old is he?"

"I believe he's twenty seven. But sometimes I think he might just be five," John laughed.

That's when Sherlock walked in, looking very cross. "If you two would like to stop gossiping like old women, I'd like to have a word with John. Alone."

Arianna stifled a giggle and got out of her chair. Sherlock glared at her as she passed him. It didn't bother her though, now it was his turn to be embarrassed.

When she had left Sherlock turned to John, "Was it really necessary to share that information with her?" he snapped.

"I didn't think it bothered you. Does it?" John asked, he didn't realize Sherlock would be embarrassed by it. He never seemed interested in such things, or seemed to care.

"No…" Sherlock said, his lower lip sticking out slightly, like a pouting child.

"It does bother you!" John laughed, "If it bothers you so much, why don't you just go find someone and snog her? It wouldn't be that hard, the dashing bloke you are!"

Sherlock's eyes lit up, "Dashing?" John thought he was handsome?

"Oh no! Don't you get any ideas. I'm not snogging you!" John held his hands up in front of him, as if to stop Sherlock from advancing.

"Of course not!" Sherlock retorted. Embarrassed that he had thought of it, even more that John had caught it. John quickly changed the subject,

"I talked to Arianna and she said you didn't try anything funny. But I still think it would be best that you try to refrain from having anymore midnight chats."

Sherlock started pouting again. "Why does it matter?" John asked, "Whenever I see you with her you don't seem to give a rat's arse about her."

"Well, maybe I just don't always show how I feel about people accurately then." Sherlock huffed, "She's actually quite smart," John raised his eyebrows, this was a huge complement coming from Sherlock. "And she always listens intently to everything I say. She actually _listens_!" He sounded like a child who got a cool new toy, and was explaining all the amazing things it did to his parents. "She's only been here for a few days and she listens much more than you ever have."

"Well maybe you should tell her this. She's under the impression that you don't care for her at all." John said, amazed. He'd never seen Sherlock so taken with anyone. At least not since Irene Adler came around, but he had no idea what the hell happened there.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, being nice isn't exactly my strong suit."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you have to be _mean_." John said, exasperated.

Arianna listened from the hallway, smiling. So apparently she was doing _very_ well. During the lessons when Sherlock gave no sign that she had done anything right, she had actually been doing _everything _right. He just had a serious case of being a huge asshole. She found it very funny though that Sherlock had considered kissing John. He must be really desperate. Or just in love with John… She could see that. He said he wasn't good at showing how he truly felt about people, and if he really thought she was much better than he made her think he was, what did that say about how he treated John? He always seemed to care what John thought, and he was never unkind to him. Maybe he was in love with John, but just didn't realize it.

When she felt she had heard enough she decided to go for a walk. So, after slipping on her coat and shoes, she quietly left the house. She hadn't gone very far when she noticed something strange. Every time she passed a big building or an alley way she heard a strange whirring sound, like something mechanical. Finally stopping and looking around her to investigate, she saw a security camera above her on the building, looking straight at her. She looked at the building across the street, there was a camera there as well, also watching her. She thought maybe it was a coincidence and kept walking, but then she saw yet another camera, its lens following her as she walked. She stopped and stared straight into the camera with her hands on her hips. Obviously there was no way of avoiding them, so she might as well try to figure out who was watching her.

"Is there any particular reason as to why you're watching my every move?" she demanded, sounding braver than she felt. This was actually kind of terrifying. Then, one hundred feet away, the phone in a telephone booth started ringing. "You've got to be kidding me," Arianna said.


	5. Call From a Telephone Booth

Was it even possible to call a telephone booth? As if to confirm that it was for her, the camera turned to face it. Shaking her head, Arianna went to the booth. This was beginning to look like something out of a spy movie. Still not believing what was happening; she slowly picked up the telephone and raised it to her ear.

"Hello Miss," said a voice from the phone, "it would mean a great deal to me if you would step into the car, without any trouble." As he said this, a limo pulled up to the curb. Arianna hung up the phone and slowly approached it. Out of the door came a woman dressed in business attire. She stood at the door, waiting for Arianna to get in.

"Is it okay if I make a quick call?" Arianna asked. The woman nodded, so she pulled out her cell phone and called John. He didn't answer, so she decided to leave him a message, "Hey John, it's me. Just thought you might want to know, I went on a walk, and now I'm getting into a strange limousine because a man on the phone in the telephone booth told me to. That's all, hope you and Sherlock have a nice chat." She hung up and got into the car. The woman shut the door and came in on the other side and they drove away.

"This has something to do with Sherlock, doesn't it?" Arianna said, "Because I know I haven't done anything big enough to be noticed by someone who can control all of London's security cameras and call phone booths." The woman just smiled knowingly at her, giving no reply.

When they finally arrived Arianna opened the door to find herself in some old abandoned garage. A man stood alone on the other side of the room. She figured that was who she was meant to see, and started walking towards him. She had to keep a positive mind-frame. She wasn't here to be killed, or kidnapped and tortured or- she shook her head, trying to shake off those thoughts. She had to stay calm.

"Well, I'll have to say this is a bit of a letdown after the limo. I expected some giant mansion or something." She said lightly. She was close enough to see his face clearly now. He gave her a small amused smile. Something about him seemed familiar.

"Hello Arianna, I hope this isn't too much of a hassle for you." It was the voice she had heard on the phone.

"No, I don't really think you care, but it wasn't much of a hassle. But if you have access to all this technology, couldn't you have just called my cell phone?"

The man shook his head, "Cell phones can be traced. It's safer this way."

"So who are you exactly? And what do you want?" Arianna asked, wondering what on Earth was worth all this trouble.

"You just recently moved in with a man named Sherlock Holmes." It wasn't a question, "I would like information on him."

Arianna hesitated. "What sort of information?"

"Nothing much, just what he's up to, how he's doing, things like that. I worry about him. I would be willing to offer some… compensation," he said, pulling out a checkbook.

That's when it clicked. Why he seemed familiar. His posture, his manner of speaking, and his eyes, not just how they looked, but the way they scanned everything faster than a bullet. Not to mention she could tell he wasn't lying when mentioned being worried.

"So, you never told me who you were." Arianna asked.

"I believe Sherlock would refer to me as his arch enemy." He smiled sarcastically.

She could believe it. Sherlock was definitely dramatic like that, as she had learned last night from his rants.

"And your name?"

"My name is Mycroft." Yep, with a name like that she had no doubt who it was.

"How much compensation are we talking?" She said slowly. If he thought she was someone debating on whether or not to betray their caretaker to some evil villain, he would probably be willing to pay quite a bit convince her.

"I assure the numbers will astound you." He said. The way he spoke was like a sly fox tricking its prey.

"Alright, I'll do it. But the numbers better be as good as you say."

"So quick you are to betray your guardian for money." He said, his smile growing wider.

"It's hardly betrayal. You said he would refer to you as his arch enemy, but what do you refer to him as?"

Mycroft's smile shrunk slightly, "I would call him my bothersome pest of a younger brother."

"That's what I thought. You're worried about him, but Sherlock being stubborn as he is won't let you anywhere near him without a fuss. So instead of just sorting it out like adults, you spy on him and he pretends you don't exist. If anything I'm just being a median of peace, now you can see what he's up to without actually bothering him." She was grinning now, very pleased with herself.

"Well then, you are a clever one." Mycroft said.

"Now don't think this means you can pay me any less, I better choke on my drink reading that check of yours when I get it in the mail."

"Only if you give me information deserving of it."

"Okay, all I can tell you at the moment is right now Sherlock is frustrated because the case he's working on is linked to an organization whose members are willing to kill themselves without hesitation if they have fears of being caught. He's a bit like a child in that he likes having someone around to tell him he's brilliant all the time, which is why last night when John kicked him out of his bedroom for keeping him up talking he came down to me. I saw him eat something for the first time this morning, he had a cupcake for breakfast. He's self-conscious about the fact that he's never kissed anyone, even though he pretends not to be. Oh, and I'm pretty sure he has feelings for John that are more than just friendship. He just hasn't realized it yet because he doesn't really know what it's like to have such feelings. He's been mentoring me so that I can essentially become him when I'm older so that if he ever feels like quitting his job or is unable to do it anymore there will still be someone else to do it. This means that even though he acts as if he only does it for himself, he actually does care about the people who are hurt by criminals." Arianna rattled off, as if she was reading a grocery list. "Is there anything you would like me to direct his attention to? Or maybe if you think he needs some more vitamin D I can make him go to the beach." She smiled teasingly.

"No, that's all for now I believe. Thank you for your cooperation. You may leave now if you wish."

"Alright, catch you later Mr. Holmes." She started back towards the car.

Mycroft watched her leave. Sherlock never seemed keep the company of the ordinary. This girl was interesting indeed. He hoped she wouldn't be too much of a handful, although, he smiled, maybe it wouldn't be too awful for Sherlock to have a little trouble to deal with.

* * *

Sherlock and John had been talking about their plans on investigating the new heads of the companies when John noticed something.

"Hey, where's Arianna gone off to?" he said, looking around.

"She's probably in her room," Sherlock said unconcerned.

"Sherlock, this is her room." John got up and went to look around the house, finding no one he came back down into the living room. "I can't find her anywhere."

"Well, her shoes and coat are gone, so she must have gone out for a walk."

John picked up his phone to call her and saw that she had already called him. He checked his voicemail and listened to the one she had left and groaned.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked. John gave him the phone and Sherlock replayed the message. Sherlock sighed and hit the end button.

"Great" he said, "She's gone off and gotten herself kidnapped."

It was then that they heard the door downstairs opening and they rushed to the top of the staircase to see Arianna coming in and taking her shoes off.

"Hello," she said, smiling up at them. They both looked at her like she was mad. "Oh yeah, I just had a nice little chat with your arch enemy. Very secret stuff. We're in cahoots now and he's going to pay me loads of money to betray you and tell him all your secrets." She said in a very matter-of-fact tone.

"Mycroft," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes, "So you just willingly agreed to give him information?" This was a test obviously, he thought she believed Mycroft was actually a criminal. He wanted to know how well he could trust her. So she responded,

"Well, I think it hardly matters. It's quite childish to call your brother your arch enemy. I doubt your little sibling rivalry is going end in your destruction."

"So he told you then?" John asked, remembering his similar experience.

"Nope, I could just tell. You and your brother are very much alike." Sherlock scoffed at this. "I would've thought your arch enemy would at least be dangerous, the only thing Mycroft wants with you is to keep you well."

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at her, and she returned it. John shook his head, overwhelmed by the childishness of the gesture, "I swear you two are just little kids in disguise." Arianna started giggling, Sherlock chuckled along with her. It was a nice sound, Arianna thought. Deep and warm. And it definitely improved his features, the real smile. Much better than the forced one he flashed at her this morning. This morning… It seemed much longer ago than that. She'd only been here a few days, but she already felt at home. As they sat around the fireplace laughing, Arianna already felt like she belonged.


	6. A Pleasant Surprise

Arianna woke up as sunlight seeped in through the window onto her face. Blinking and grimacing at the unwelcome light in her eyes, she sat up slowly. Stretching she looked at the time, it was ten in the morning. Sherlock had been sleeping in later and later every day, and usually he woke her up by getting up. But now he was still fast asleep. It had been a few weeks since she arrived at 221B Baker Street. Sherlock stayed the night in her bed every night, talking until at least three in the morning. He talked about millions of things, from what nail polish bank secretaries wore to what different poisons smelled like. Sometimes Arianna got a turn, talking about the things that she knew that Sherlock had no clue about. She was surprised at how much there was he didn't know. Things like the solar system, politics, sports, celebrities, even the boiling temperature of water. He even listened to her talk about herself and her life back at home. They hadn't gotten very far on the case. The records of the companies showed no signs of underground trading, and there was no way they could get anywhere near the heads to interrogate them without them committing suicide.

They had taken other cases, all in which Sherlock solved within a day. Arianna was awestruck by his brilliance sometimes. And she took no hesitation to voice it, to which Sherlock told her,

"You sound exactly like John did on his first day." He said it as if he didn't give it any thought, but she could tell he was pleased. It must be nice for him to have a pair of people following him around who told him every five minutes how amazing he was.

As she sat there, stretching and wiping the sleep from her eyes, she heard someone knock on the door. This was odd, people usually rang the doorbell. She quietly crept around Sherlock's sleeping figure and slipped a robe on. Tiptoeing down the stairs and opening the door she found herself face to face with a delivery boy. He was about her age, and a few inches taller than her with blue eyes and brown hair that barely reached down to his eyes.

"Hello," He said, "I have a delivery for… Arianna."

"Yep, that's me," she said, smiling. He was cute, with a light tall frame and slightly crooked smile. Not to mention British accents were always a bonus in her books.

"Well here you go," he said, handing her the box, "And if you'll just sign here…"

Arianna signed the paper.

"So," the boy started, "I've delivered here a few times and I always thought it was just two blokes livin' here."

"Yeah, I'm an exchange student. Sherlock and John are my host family."

"Hmm, I've never seen you up at the school."

"Yeah well Sherlock signed me up for online classes. They have me doing lots of other stuff that school would get in the way of." Suddenly realizing that that might sound a bit weird she opened her mouth to explain but the boy said,

"Isn't he that one genius? Sherlock Holmes? I remember my mother talking about him pretending to commit suicide. Are you his assistant or something then?" He asked, thankfully not thinking she meant something inappropriate.

"Yeah kinda, more of an apprentice really."

"That's really cool!" He said, "Well, have a nice day."

"You too," she replied, starting to shut the door.

"Uhm, wait!" the boy said suddenly. Arianna paused. "I hope this isn't weird, but could I get your number perhaps? I figure it'd be nice to talk to someone your own age for once." He put his hand on the back of his neck, smiling shyly.

"Uh yeah," she smiled, "that'd be really nice."

After they exchanged numbers the boy turned to leave again,

"Oh, and my name's Tom by the way!"

"Very nice to meet you Tom." Arianna went back into the house, closing the door behind her. Her grin so wide she thought her face might split, she walked back up the stairs. Sherlock was still lying in bed, but she could tell by his breathing that he wasn't asleep.

"I know you're awake Sherlock." She said, shaking her head. He had taught her only a few days ago how to tell whether or not someone was faking being asleep. Sherlock sighed and sat up. Arianna was surprised to see he had his sulking face on.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her smile fading.

"Nothing at all, it's nice to see you're making new friends." He said, indifferently.

So he had heard it all. She was confused though. Why would this upset him? Not feeling up to trying to figure it out she put her package on the table and began to open it. Inside was a box of chocolate and a letter. She opened the letter, with no idea who it had come from.

_Arianna,_

_Thank you for your cooperation. Your business is greatly appreciated. I look forward to more negotiations in the future and will continue to send payment as long as you continue to work with me. I hope your compensation meets your expectations. _

_ Sincerely,_

_ Mycroft Holmes_

There was a check enclosed in the letter, Arianna drew in a sharp breath.

"Fifteen thousand dollars?!" she spluttered.

"Well, technically they're not dollars-" Sherlock corrected to her.

"Shut up Sherlock! Fifteen thousand!" She couldn't believe her eyes. She had never had so much money in her life. She had expected maybe five thousand at the _most_, even that was more that she could hope for. But _fifteen_, she was astounded. She could buy an entire new wardrobe. Hell, she could rent out the flat downstairs all to herself if she wanted to. And he was going to pay her _more_. Arianna felt dizzy.

"I need to sit down," she said faintly. Sherlock, sensing that she was starting to lose the ability to keep her feet on the ground, took her arm and led her to a chair. His eyes were wide, and she realized he was a little worried so she smiled reassuringly at him,

"Today is really starting to look like a good day," she laughed. A cute British boy had asked for her number, and now she was rich. Well, rich for a seventeen year old at least. "You wanna come with me to the bank?" Sherlock looked at her, confused,

"Why? Do you need help with something?" John often asked Sherlock if he would go get groceries with him, but only because he wanted Sherlock to get things for him. He didn't see why she would need assistance at the bank.

"No," she laughed, "I just thought it'd be nice if we went together." She looked up at him, amused by his perplexed expression. He must not be used to people wanting to hang out with him without needing him to do something.

"I suppose so," he said quietly. John was the only one who ever actually wanted to spend time with him, and even then he was always complaining every other second because apparently Sherlock was "rude" and "annoying" sometimes.

"Okay, let's get dressed and we can go," She said, standing up and walking to her closet. After she went inside he stood there a few seconds, still startled by this newfound companionship. He always considered himself lucky to have one friend, but now it looked like he had two.

When Arianna came back out, Sherlock was standing there waiting, wearing a purple button up shirt, black jeans, and nice black shoes. In his hands he held his usual trench coat and blue scarf. Arianna assumed the jeans were his attempt at casual, as she had pointed out earlier that it wasn't entirely necessary to be dressed so nicely every day. Even in jeans he looked… fantastic. If not even better than usual, the jeans more form fitting than his usual loose slacks, drawing attention to his great physique. It was hard not to stare. Arianna shook her head, like she was trying to get swarming bugs away, it was best not to think about that.

Sherlock watched her emerge from the closet. He had put jeans on trying to look, as she put it, more casual. Her reaction was very visible, staring and biting her lip. He tried his best not to smirk as she pulled herself back to reality. Something about him enjoyed this attention she gave him. Not that he had any romantic feelings about her of course. He just liked the flattery. He had also been subtly giving her compliments every once in a while, but she still tended to hesitate before giving her opinion and was very reluctant to talk to people for information when Sherlock wanted her to go undercover for him. It was sometimes frustrating how much she doubted herself.

Sherlock didn't understand the concept of self-doubt. He was a genius and he knew it. He didn't care about appearance, so it didn't make much of a difference to him whether or not he was handsome. He didn't see what her problem was. Although, he didn't really know what was considered ugly or beautiful. But if society said Arianna was ugly he would have to disagree. There was a certain light that shone from her, always smiling, kind and intelligent. Also there were her eyes, captivating and a work of art in themselves. Surely beauty was more than just a certain arrangement of features. If that person made you happy, then that person was beautiful in your eyes. John was beautiful to Sherlock. And Arianna always went out of her way to make everyone happy, going with John to the store, listening to Sherlock's banter, cooking meals so that they wouldn't have to go out to eat, letting Sherlock perform psychological experiments on her, she hardly cared about herself. If that didn't make her beautiful in society's eyes, well, he never had many agreements with ordinary people anyways.

"Shall we go then?" She said, putting her hands in her pockets. Sherlock nodded and they went downstairs. They walked down the street, talking about nothing in particular. At one point Arianna grabbed his hand to stop him so she could show him something. Sherlock's ears turned slightly pink. He was unused to the personal contact. No one had held his hand besides John since he was a child. Arianna was going to let go after she was done but as she started to loosen her grip she noticed that Sherlock was still holding on tightly, so she held on as well. Sherlock was like an abandoned child, starving for affection, but too shy to ask for it. They continued walking, hand in hand.

As they neared the bank they ran into a woman that Arianna didn't recognize.

"Hello Sherlock!" Said the woman, she was a slightly mousy woman with reddish hair. She seemed very shy and she flushed red under Sherlock's stare. Arianna could tell immediately that she was very taken with him, but Sherlock gave no indication that he noticed.

"Hello Molly," Sherlock replied shortly.

"Who's this?" Molly asked, looking at Arianna, her eyes momentarily flashing down to their interlocked fingers. Arianna took her hand out of Sherlock's, requiring some force, and held it out to Molly,

"I'm Arianna, I'm an exchange student and Sherlock and John are taking care of me." Molly seemed to relax a little at this, as if she were afraid Arianna were competition. Although Arianna didn't believe Molly would ever have much success with Sherlock anyways, as shy and stuttering as she was. Not to mention Sherlock was Sherlock. They began talking about work and different experiments Sherlock was planning on for the bodies. One of his ideas involved the effects of strong acids on flesh.

"Um, I don't know if it'll be allowed for you do anything that actually dissolves the bodies…" Molly said quietly, as if she was afraid to deny Sherlock anything he wanted.

"Are those new earrings?" Sherlock said suddenly.

"Um, yes I just bought them yesterday…"

"They're very nice," Sherlock said, flashing a bright smile, visibly dazzling her, "They bring out the color in your eyes." With this he got very close to her face, looking into her eyes, and her cheeks went from rosy to bright red.

"Th-Thank you." Molly stuttered.

"So, I'll see you Monday then? Nine o' clock?" Sherlock said, still smiling. He had won her over. Arianna could tell this wasn't the first time he had done this.

"Um, yes, you will. See you then." Molly said quietly, with an expression of self-loathing.

As they walked away Arianna turned to Sherlock,

"That was totally not okay!" she scolded.

"What's not okay?" Sherlock replied, not looking at her.

"Using that poor girl like that! She obviously fancies you and you shamelessly take advantage of it to get her to do things for you. She can't say no to you and she obviously hates herself for it."

Sherlock didn't respond. Arianna shook her head, he was incredibly selfish.

"Are you angry with me?" Sherlock asked quietly, his voice light as if he didn't care, but when Arianna looked up at him there was a sort of pleading in his eyes and she sighed,

"Only a little. You shouldn't do that too much though, lead her on like that. She'll probably end up alone because she's too wrapped with you."

"All she has to do is go out with someone else. I don't see why she waits for me when I'm obviously not interested."

"Well, when you get up in her face like that, with your compliments and your beautiful eyes gazing into hers like that, it's not that obvious. She's probably very confused. And as long as there's a chance you might return the feelings at least a little bit she'll wait. I mean, have you seen yourself? Not to mention you're without a doubt the most interesting man she's ever met."

Sherlock grinned, "Of course, ordinary people are so boring. But what did you mean have I seen myself?"

Arianna turned a bit red,

"Well, you're uh… tall… and fit, and more handsome than the average bloke… and…" She faded off. This was too awkward for her. Sherlock's piercing gaze was overwhelming. Not to mention she surprised herself by using the word bloke, she hadn't realized she had started picking up British slang.

"And I have beautiful eyes?" He said, raising an eyebrow at her, smirking.

"Well yes." Arianna said, looking down and bumping him sideways with her shoulder, "Now stop it, I know you're just doing this to make me uncomfortable."

Sherlock stopped and took her hand, pulling her close. He took her chin in his and tilted her face up to his, leaning down so that their noses were almost touching,

"My eyes are nothing, compared to yours," he said, his voice deep and seductive. Arianna's breath stopped, her heart was pounding in her ears at an alarming rate. She stood there, frozen and wide eyed. Her mind was a tangled mess and she couldn't comprehend what on earth was happening.

Just when she thought she might faint, Sherlock let go of her face and stepped back. Then he started to laugh. Arianna scowled,

"Bastard," she muttered, "That was totally not cool."

Sherlock just kept chuckling and took her hand. They finally walked up to the stairway of the bank and went inside.


	7. Very Not Good

When they came back to the flat they found themselves arriving at the same time as John, who stepped out of his taxi and went up to greet them as they got closer. He automatically noticed them holding hands, which he thought was odd, but didn't dwell on the thought for too long.

"What have you guys been up to?" John asked.

"I just had to take the check I got from Mycroft to the bank," Arianna said.

"How much did you get?"

"Let's just say we won't have to worry about the rent or money for groceries for a while," She said secretively.

"No, I can't let you pay for rent, you're our guest and we're supposed to take care of you."

Arianna rolled her eyes, "Whatever you say John."

The rest of the day went without incident. Arianna did some of her school work and Sherlock stayed up in his room doing experiments while John read the paper and wrote on his blog. Curious as to what he was writing, Arianna looked over his shoulder at his laptop.

"Did you write anything about me?" She said. John jumped, he hadn't realized she was there. He quickly covered the screen saying,

"Yeah, just a bit."

"Why can't I see it?" Arianna said, trying to move his hand.

"Because it's my personal blog and I don't want you reading it over my shoulder."

"Yeah, your personal blog… that's on the internet… where everyone with a computer can see it. Very private." Arianna said sarcastically.

"Why don't you go bother Sherlock? He's been up in his room quite a while, I'm sure he'd love the company."

"He specifically said he didn't want anyone coming in his room and disturbing him." Arianna sighed, she would definitely be up there otherwise. Sherlock was working on something he said was very important, and he was being very secretive about it. Since it was Sherlock, it could be practically anything. She was very curious as to what it was, but Sherlock gave no hints or signs of telling any time soon. Then her phone buzzed.

It was a text message from Tom,

_Hey :) -T_

Arianna's heart skipped a beat, she hadn't expected him to text her so soon. She sat down and replied,

_Hey there, what's up? :]_

_Nothing much, just watchin' telly. You? -T_

_Even less, I'm bored out of my mind._

_Good thing I came to the rescue then. Major Tom, here to save damsels in distress from boredom. -T_

Arianna smiled to herself.

_Haha, My hero :]_

Sherlock came downstairs from his room to find Arianna and John sitting silently on opposite sides of the room. Arianna was on her phone, and judging by the look on her face, (he could see her face in the reflection of the window, she wasn't facing him) she wasn't texting her parents. John was typing on his damned blog. It still frustrated him how much more popular John's blog was than his. He quietly walked up behind Arianna, trying to look over her shoulder at her phone.

"Stop reading my texts over my shoulder Sherlock." Arianna said without looking up.

John looked around, surprised. He hadn't heard Sherlock come in.

"Who are you texting?" Sherlock asked, still trying to read the stuff on her phone. Arianna put it face down on her lap.

"None, of your business."

"It's that boy from this morning isn't it?"

John looked up, "Boy?"

Arianna opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by Sherlock, "Arianna had a very interesting encounter with the delivery boy this morning."

"It wasn't that interesting," Arianna said angrily, "We just chatted and exchanged numbers. The end. The rest isn't any of your business Sherlock."

"Ooh, a boy asked for your number," said John, "that's nice."

Arianna scowled. It didn't seem as if there was room for a private life in this house. It looked like Sherlock's nose would always be in her business and there was nothing she could do about it.

"So," she changed the subject, "What are you working on upstairs?"

Sherlock smiled mischievously, "You'll see soon enough. It's almost done."

Neither Arianna nor John liked that look on his face. They both looked back down to their electronics, and hoped it wouldn't be anything too outrageous.

Next thing she knew Sherlock was sprawled on top of her in the most inconvenient manner.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, completely unable to move her arms, startled by the unexpected invasion of her space. His bony elbow jabbed into her side. Sherlock didn't say anything.

"He does that when he feels you aren't paying him enough attention." John sighed.

"Well I'm kinda busy at the moment Sherlock."

John shook his head. Sherlock never cared how busy you were. It was always about him.

"I think we should run a background check on him. He could be an assassin trying to get close to you so that he could attack me," Sherlock stated.

"You need to stop being so paranoid Sherlock, not everyone around us is out to get you."

"Well just think about it," Sherlock said, "It's strange that he was so eager to keep up a conversation with you. Not to mention he was quite quick to get your number. I'm sure you weren't expecting that either." It was silent for about thirty seconds after that. John had even stopped typing.

"You're right," Arianna said quietly, "I wasn't expecting it… It's nice to know though that it's so strange for a boy to ask for my number." John ran a hand over his face.

"….Not good?" Sherlock asked, directing it at John. He had to make an effort to not look at Arianna's face.

"No…" John sighed, "Not good at all."

Sherlock rolled off of her, finally looking at her face. She refused to make eye contact with him, biting her lip and trying her hardest not to cry. Sherlock opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say. He wasn't one for apologies. Arianna looked back down at her phone.

_So I was wondering if maybe you'd want to go see a movie on Friday._ -_T_

_Sounds great, I could really use a change in scenery :) _

Sherlock got up and grabbed his own laptop, sitting down in a chair and starting to work.

Later John went up to bed and the sitting room got awfully silent. After a few minutes Sherlock couldn't bear the tension so he closed his laptop and went to leave.

"Are you sleeping in your room tonight?" Arianna asked.

"Yes, why?"

"Well I guess I've just gotten used to you staying with me…"

"Well I haven't got anything to say tonight so I don't see any use in doing so." Sherlock said rather coldly.

"Oh… Alright…" Arianna didn't know why this bothered her. She wasn't very happy with him after all. She just enjoyed his company she supposed. It would be odd to sleep alone tonight. She just thought that maybe he enjoyed her company as well. But apparently she was merely a replacement for John, or even worse, the skull. With that Sherlock left the room and went upstairs.

Sherlock locked his bedroom door behind him. He had really done it now. He had never cared about people's feelings before, but he had become a lot more empathetic since he had met John. And Arianna's feelings were definitely hurt. All that work he had put into complimenting her lately had probably just turned to dust. Now she would just be a big ball of cloudy minded self-doubt. It was imperative now that he finish what he was working on. He sat down at his cluttered desk and began a sleepless night of work.


	8. Sherlock Makes an Ass Out of Himself

A few days passed. Arianna spent much more time with John those few days than usual. Sherlock's hours were consumed up in his room working and she wasn't used to having such a long period of time with nothing to do. Sherlock had been getting into her bed again, but he only talked for about an hour. After he was done he immediately went up to his room for the rest of the night. One day she went with John to the grocery store, who had still refused to let her give him money for anything. When they came to the checkout line Arianna said,

"Oh, I think I forgot my phone by the cereal aisle. Could you go get it for me? I'll stay here and watch the groceries."

While John went to go get her phone, which she had left on purpose, she quickly paid for the groceries. When he came back she already had them all packed and ready to go. Grumbling John took his share of the bags and they left the store.

Arianna had her movie date with Tom tonight. Her stomach was tingling with excitement. She tried on several outfits, trying to look nice, but not too nice. She didn't want to look like she was trying too hard.

Sherlock watched Arianna pace around the room, checking her hair in the mirror every few seconds. She looked very nice, and he didn't like it at all. Just like John always had a parade of women trying to take him away, now she had a boy who was trying to keep her too busy to spend time with Sherlock. Sherlock had a problem with getting attached to people too easily. It only took a few days for John to become very important to him. And now he was becoming just as jealous with Arianna. Why couldn't people just realize they belonged to him? They were Sherlock's and Sherlock's alone.

Arianna tried to ignore Sherlock's sulking as she walked around the room. He watched her every move as she checked herself in the mirror over and over. She was nervous. She hadn't gone on many dates before. Sherlock's staring and pouting didn't help much either. It was strange how upset Sherlock was. Whenever she was texting Tom he immediately started glowering, and when she said she would be busy tonight because she was going to see a movie with him he practically threw a fit. John had to step in and make Sherlock back off so that she could go. Ever since then he'd been wearing a continuous scowl on his face.

When the doorbell rang Arianna jumped. Sherlock's face grew even darker. She opened the door to find Tom holding a bouquet of flowers. Her smile grew. No one had ever gotten her flowers before. She was very surprised.

"You ready to go?" he said, handing her the flowers.

"Yeah, let me just go put these upstairs and I'm ready." She quickly went up the stairs and put the flowers on the table. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. John raised his eyebrows. Arianna gave him a wink and went back downstairs. When she got outside, Tom showed her their method of transportation.

"A motorcycle?"

"Yep. That's okay right?" It was more than okay. Motorcycles were hot. He gave her a helmet and helped her onto the motorcycle, and then they were off.

Sherlock stood in an alley way across from the movie theatre. He had quickly run through a series of shortcuts after Arianna had left the room (He went out the fire escape) and managed to reach the theatre before they did. He hid in the shadows, knowing she wouldn't be happy to find he was spying on her. When the motorcycle rode up he shrank back further so she wouldn't see him and watched them go into the building. Sherlock snuck into the dark theatre a few moments after them. He sat three rows behind them and watched them carefully.

After sitting through the horribly dull and predictable movie Sherlock followed the couple back outside. Instead of going to the motorcycle, however, they went for a walk, talking about things Sherlock couldn't get close enough to hear. Suddenly they stopped. Sherlock quickly hid around the nearest corner and peered around it. What happened next he did not expect, though he told himself later that he probably should have. The boy leaned over and kissed Arianna, who responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and returning the kiss. A spark of anger flashed in Sherlock as the idiotic boy's hands found their way to her waist. As they pressed closer together Sherlock turned away. It didn't look as if they were going to stop any time soon so there was no point in lingering to watch. White hot fury burned in his stomach. He had been hoping Arianna would find the boy dreadfully boring and decide he wasn't worth the time. Now he was going to have to deal with her and her boyfriend just as he had to with John and his dreadfully uninteresting women.

He made his way back to the flat and slammed the door behind him. He tramped up the stairs and stood in the living room, glaring at the flowers on Arianna's bed.

"How'd your walk go?" John asked, knowing Sherlock had gone to spy on Arianna. He knew there was no way to stop him and wasn't surprised that Sherlock came back mad. He was just glad he hadn't tried to interfere with her date. Sherlock grumbled something unintelligible.

"You shouldn't have gone. Her private life isn't your business."

"Yes it is," Sherlock said stubbornly.

"No it's not. You're not her father."

Sherlock huffed and stormed up to his room. John didn't notice him take the flowers from the bed.

* * *

When Arianna came back she crept back up the stairs. It was late, and she wasn't sure if John had gone to bed. When she reached the living room she found her flowers on the table, covered in some sort of slime. When she touched it the goop burned her skin. What the hell was this? Then she heard some movement from Sherlock's room. She gritted her teeth in anger. No way, Sherlock wouldn't have. That would be _asinine._

Arianna knocked loudly on Sherlock's bedroom door. There was no reply.

"Sherlock I know you're in there and awake now open the door," Arianna called.

Sherlock cracked open the door and peered out.

"Why did you ruin my flowers?" Arianna said angrily.

"Oh, were those your flowers? I just saw them and remembered that I wanted to test the effects of-" Sherlock started.

"Oh shut up, they were on my bed. You knew they were mine."

Sherlock didn't answer, instead saying,

"Your date went well then? Since you stayed out much later than when the movie ended."

"How would you know when the movie ended? Oh my god! Did you follow me?" Arianna said, getting louder. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably.

"No I just-"

"You did! You did follow me! I can't believe you followed me!" Arianna yelled.

"Well I just had to make sure that he wouldn't-"

"Bull shit! You've always gotten angry when I texted him, it's obvious you don't like him! And you don't even know him! Why does it bother you so much?"

"Well if you would just let me finish a-"

"Why should I let you explain? There is no valid reason that you could give me! Unless you looked him up and found out he was part of some mob and had killed three people already, there is NO excuse good enough as to why you would spy on me during my date!"

It was then that John appeared, the yelling had woken him up.

"What's going on?" he mumbled groggily.

"Sherlock spied on me during my date and ruined my flowers!" Arianna hissed furiously.

"Well it was nothing interesting. Apparently I was wrong about the boy. I was surprised however at the end of it. I didn't expect you to kiss him on only your first date. And I left soon after you started so who knows how much more you did? Seems a bit immoral if you ask me." Sherlock stated.

"Excuse me?" Arianna said, shocked.

"Sherlock that's enough," John said firmly.

"I'm just stating the facts," Sherlock said indifferently, "I mean, I realize her self-confidence is a bit low, but who'd have thought she'd be so _easy?_"

With that Arianna leapt at Sherlock, ready to smash his face in. John caught a hold of her arms and held her back.

"How _dare_ you?" Arianna shouted, "It's none of your business who I kiss! And I am NOT easy!"

"Sherlock," John said, "Go back in your room and shut the door."

"Why are you being such an asshole?" Arianna continued, "Why does it matter to you if I kiss people?"

"Sherlock! Close the door!" John yelled over her. Sherlock finally did as he was told and closed the door. John let go of Arianna, who launched herself at the door. She went to open it but found it locked. She slammed her fists against the door.

"Open the damn door so I can kill you!" she roared. When the door didn't open she yelled, "It's because you're jealous, isn't it? You wish you had been the one to kiss me! Well that's not my fault! It's not my fault I was born too late!" With that she stormed off. Going downstairs to the front door she put her shoes on.

"Where are you going?" John called after her.

"For a walk!"

With that she slammed the door behind her.

Sherlock watched her leave the flat from his window. She stood outside for a few moments with her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. Sherlock felt a twinge of guilt. He hadn't meant to make her cry. He didn't know why he said what he did. He was just angry. And he was jealous, just not how she meant it. The feelings he had for her weren't romantic. If anything they were… father-like. Yes, that was it. It was perfectly normal for a father to not like their daughter's boyfriends. That must be what made him so angry. Then he heard a knock at the door.

"Sherlock," it was John, "Can I talk to you?"

Sherlock opened the door.

"You shouldn't have done that. You were absolutely terrible just then." John said.

"I know…" Sherlock looked at his feet. This surprised John; Sherlock never admitted that he was wrong.

"Well, you really should apologize. If it really bothers you that much when she doesn't spend time with you, you don't want her angry with you."

"She'll come around eventually."

"Sherlock, she's not like me. Women don't just get mad and then forget. Women will stay angry with you forever. Unless you apologize, you can't expect her to talk with you again for a very long time."

Sherlock sighed, "Fine, I'll consider it."

"Good."

* * *

It was around two in the morning when Arianna came back to the flat. She was exhausted. She changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed, curling up into a ball under the blankets. As she lay there with her eyes closed footsteps sounded in the hallway. They were obviously Sherlock's; the space between each step was too long for John's shorter legs. The steps stopped at the doorway. She knew Sherlock could tell she wasn't asleep. She refused to give him any acknowledgement though. He came and sat down on the edge of her bed.

"Arianna…" He said, as she visibly stiffened.

"I don't want your fake apology." She knew John probably told him to apologize, and she wasn't interested.

"It's not," he said quietly, "I went too far, and I realize that. It was wrong of me to insult you, and I don't actually believe what I said. I was just a bit angry."

Arianna sat there silently. He hadn't actually said he was sorry. But she realized that this was probably as close to saying sorry as Sherlock got. She flipped around.

"…I'm sorry I said you were jealous. I know that you couldn't have possibly wanted…" She faded off. She felt stupid for having said it. It was completely thoughtless of her. She was ten years younger than him and, well, she wasn't really the kind of girl that men crossed legal barriers for. But it seemed like the only logical explanation at the time.

"It's alright. Sharing just isn't one of my fortes."

It was quiet for a few moments.

"You know, the only reason I kissed him was because I didn't think there was going to be a second date. I wanted to at least have a little fun."

Sherlock was surprised, he had thought she really liked this boy.

"Why is that?" He asked.

"He was just… boring. Almost all he talked about was soccer. And when he talked anything else he was just, well to be frank, incredibly dull. I felt awful. I just couldn't listen to him talk much longer. So when he kissed me I gladly took the opportunity to make him be quiet. I'm sure if I had met him a month ago I would've gladly listened to everything he said. I guess you've just ruined guys for me. All of them are horribly ordinary in comparison now." This sounded way more like a compliment than she had intended. This must be what it feels like to be him, she thought, always having to talk to boring normal people. Now she was doomed to never be happy talking to people unless they were geniuses like Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled. This pleased him to no end. This meant she would stop dating. She would never find anyone as interesting as him.

"Stop looking so happy," Arianna grumbled, "You completely ruined my day."

"I know. Can you forgive me?" Sherlock asked, knowing the answer already.

"Yeah… I guess. I've never been good at holding grudges," Arianna sighed. With that Sherlock lay down under the covers next to her, glad to be back to normalcy.

They lay there for a minute or so when Arianna said,

"Why are you so quiet?" She had been expecting him to start his usual rant. He turned his head to look at her,

"I guess I just haven't got anything to say," Sherlock replied.

Arianna smiled and put her head against his shoulder. It didn't take long before she was sound asleep.


	9. Monster Masterpiece

The next morning Arianna woke up to find that she was alone. She sat up, stretching and cracking her back, when she heard clattering coming from the kitchen. She got up and found Sherlock making tea in the kitchen.

"Morning," he said without turning around, "I'm making tea, would you like some?"

"Um, no thank you. I don't really like tea."

"Coffee then?"

"I don't really like coffee either." Sherlock seemed to get frustrated.

"Hot chocolate perhaps?"

"Sure, hot chocolate sounds nice," Arianna said, wondering why Sherlock was so eager to make her something to drink.

John came into the living room in his house robe welcomed by the inviting aroma of coffee. He found Arianna sitting in the chair drinking.

"I thought you didn't like coffee?" John asked.

"I don't, Sherlock made me some hot chocolate," Arianna replied.

"Well that's nice." Then he realized, Sherlock never makes anyone drinks. And he definitely wouldn't go out of his way to make hot chocolate if he was making coffee. Then he also remembered what happened the last time Sherlock made him coffee. He jumped forward,

"Don't drink that!"

"Why not?" Arianna cried, as John knocked her cup a bit, spilling it on her and burning her.

"Because the only time Sherlock makes coffee or anything for people, it's to drug them!"

Arianna just looked at him for a few moments, and then just laughed.

"Don't be ridiculous! Why would Sherlock drug me? You shouldn't be so paranoid John. I think you've been around Sherlock for too long, he's rubbing off on you," She took another sip as Sherlock came into the room. John wheeled around to face him,

"What have you put in her drink?"

"I didn't put anything in her drink," Sherlock said innocently.

Arianna started to stand up, "John why are you so convinced that-" as she stood she suddenly she felt very dizzy and stumbled towards them, "Woah… why do I feel so…"

Sherlock caught her as she started leaning towards the ground.

"God damnit Sherlock what did you do?" Was the last thing she heard before she blacked out.

* * *

It was hot. So very hot. Everything was black and on fire. She had no sense of body. She didn't know where her body started and the fire ended. It may as well be the same thing. This was all she remembered. Until now she had no thoughts, no memories, instead she was just a big cloud of pain and heat and confusion. Then she felt something waking up. There was a voice in her head. She realized it was her own. Where was she? What was she? She had a name… it was… Why was it so hard to remember? She'd come back to it. She tried to remember what she looked like. This was very hard, she couldn't remember what it was like to see. She had two legs… two arms… A blurry outline of a person appeared in her mind. Brown and blonde hair… Thick eyebrows and long eyelashes… Yes, she could see herself now. A single picture surrounded by blackness. That is me, she thought. She felt her cloud coming towards it. She was becoming the body, she could feel her arms and legs. Oh, but her skin itched and her head had so many sharp pains! She couldn't tell if this was better or worse. There were bright flashes of yellow as she felt her eyes moving around. But she couldn't open them… She focused all her energy into it, slowly wrenching apart her eyelids that seemed to way a million pounds. She finally managed to get them open and was met with bright light that made her want to just close them again. But she felt something. A buzzing in her ears that continued to her brain. They were… words. Someone was speaking. This was what it felt like to hear. She couldn't understand, she tried so hard to understand. As her eyes started to get used to the brightness she saw a blurry outline of a figure. It was were the noise was coming from. Then she heard what it was saying,

"Arianna…" it said. Arianna? Yes, that was her name. She was Arianna, and this person was calling to her. The voice sounded familiar. This person had a name too. It was… John. Yes. John, she could remember now. John, and Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson. She had to speak, let John know she could hear him.

"John…" She croaked.

"Yes, I'm here Arianna." She felt a pressure on her hand.

"I…" Oh no, she was slipping back, she could feel herself leaving her body again. She tried to hold on tight to John's hand, she had to stay. She didn't want to go back. But it was no use.

"John!" she cried out one last time, not even knowing if she had succeeded in saying it out loud. Then everything was black again, and she felt nothing. She remembered nothing.

* * *

Arianna woke with a start as her consciousness crashed into her body like a train. She opened her eyes and was greeted with blinding light. She propped herself up, her arms weak. Everything ached, and she couldn't get a good focus on the room. The sheets were plastered to her with sweat and she noticed that she was naked. She didn't know what had happened to her. All she knew was that she needed a shower. Her eyes still couldn't focus, but she knew this was John's room. Sherlock's room had a desk with a bunch of crazy metal things on it. She also remembered that he had his own bathroom, with women's shampoo for when he had "guests" over. She got up and stumbled towards the bathroom. Her body felt strange, like she was made of paper. Her head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Everything seemed louder. She could hear the clock ticking from the living room. She could hear someone washing dishes in the kitchen.

Her shaking hands turned on the shower. The water felt freezing, even though she had it on hot. Blindly grabbing bottles and smelling the contents, she finally found the women's shampoo and washed her hair then did the same for the body wash. As she rinsed off she started to rub her eyes, discovering that they were coated in some sticky stuff. Rubbing them harder to get it all out her vision began to get clearer. When she could see again, it was almost painfully clear. Everything seemed so detailed. It was probably just the contrast of having absolutely no clarity to being able to see clearly again, she thought. She turned the water off and grabbed a towel. As she was drying off she noticed something strange. She felt…smaller… Looking down at herself she was… no way. She flung herself in front of the mirror, throwing the towel off.

"Oh. My. GOD."

Then she lurched over to the toilet and threw up.

* * *

John stopped what he was doing. He swore he had heard something from Arianna's room. This suspicion was confirmed as he heard a loud retching. Rushing to his room he found Arianna standing in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror in shock. She was naked so John carefully looked at the ceiling and cleared his throat.

"I'm… so… _hot!_" Arianna exclaimed, "What on Earth was in that hot chocolate?"

She was right. Her entire body had lost almost all traces of fat, except for conveniently around her hips and backside. She wasn't only thin though, she was fit and toned, her leg muscles wiry and strong. John tried not to notice this as hard as he could.

"Sherlock!" He called, "She's up!"

He heard Sherlock drop something and come bounding into the room.

"Did it work?" He asked, excited. Then he saw her and smiled with delight.

He briskly went towards her pulled her to the middle of the room, circling her, his eyes sweeping her body. It was then that Arianna remembered that she was naked, and began to feel self-conscious. Turning red she asked,

"How long was I out?" She shuddered, remembering the torture that she went through.

"Three days," John said angrily, "You were so sick I almost called the ambulance."

"There was only a thirty percent chance it would go horribly wrong," Sherlock said lightly, "It wouldn't have taken so long, however, if you had let her drink all of it."

"What did you give me?"

"I basically improved everything about you by seventy five percent. Your senses, your physical abilities, your brain functions. You can now see, hear, touch, taste, and think more clearly. Not to mention you have the physique and abilities of an athlete."

"So… you bought some sort of super steroid then?" Arianna asked hesitantly, wondering where he could have gotten it. It would explain why everything looked so detailed and why she could hear such small noises.

"No, I made it," He said proudly, finally stopping his circling and made eye contact with her. So that's what he had been working on all this time, she thought.

"You made the ultimate steroid… for me?"

"Well, it was mostly to make you more useful but I suppose it does benefit you as well." Sherlock said indifferently. With that Arianna threw her arms around him, squeezing as tight as she could. Sherlock stumbled back, her strength overwhelming him slightly. He awkwardly patted her back. He wasn't really one for hugging. Not to mention she was naked. Arianna gave him a kiss on the cheek and let go.

"So John, what do you think?" She said, turning to face him. John continued to stare at the ceiling. "Come on, I need your opinion to see if it worked." She didn't know where this sudden boldness came from; normally she would try to cover herself.

"Sherlock already said it worked perfectly. I don't see why I have to judge as well," John said, refusing to look at her.

"Yes, Sherlock said it worked from a scientific aspect. I need an opinion from a _man's_ aspect." When John continued to stare up she pleaded, "Please? Just a quick look."

John huffed out a gust of air as slowly lowered his eyes. He took about five seconds then looked down at the ground,

"Yes, er, very nice. You look very… desirable." Carefully picking out a word that he knew she would be happy with. Not that he was lying. He was just very uncomfortable, especially considering that this girl was underage, and this must be some form of illegal. It worked, Arianna grinned widely.

"Now, I think I'm going to have to get new clothes. Thank god I've got all that money from Mycroft."

She kissed Sherlock on the cheek again, and did the same to John before walking out of the room.

"What just happened?" John said, shell shocked.

"I think I've either created a masterpiece… or a monster," Sherlock said, also a bit stunned. He had also added some of the components that were in alcohol that made people very confident. It may have added the amorous tendencies as well by the looks of it.

"I heard that!" Arianna called.

"Definitely a monster," John whispered and they both laughed.


	10. Brave

Arianna struggled with her enormous load of shopping bags. She had run a belt through the handles to make it easier, but it was still more than a handful. As if it wasn't difficult enough, she also had to somehow hail a cab like this. As she worked to wave her arm one of the bag handles snapped and spilled shoe boxes everywhere. She let out an exasperated sigh and went to somehow pick it up when a hand reached down and picked one up for her. She looked up to see an ordinary looking guy, probably in college.

"Let me help you with that," he said, smiling friendlily.

"Thanks!" He took a few bags from her.

"Do you have a car I can help you take these to?"

"No, I was just gunna get a cab," Arianna replied, looking around for one.

"Oh, you don't have to do that! I can give you a ride in my car."

Arianna paused for a moment. He didn't look like a kidnapper. She didn't really know what a kidnapper looked like though. He seemed nice enough.

"Okay."

* * *

As Arianna sat in the car, she began to get a headache. It rose steadily from a dull ache to a stabbing pain in the back of her eyes that made her clamp them shut. She didn't notice the car pass Baker Street instead of turning. She rubbed her temples and took deep breaths.

"You okay?" said her driver. Arianna just realized that she didn't know his name.

"Yeah, just got a headache," she replied. As the pain slowly started to fade she looked back out the window to see buildings she completely didn't recognize. "Um..." she said slowly, "I think you made a wrong turn."

"Yeah, me too," he said, "I'll just turn around in here." He pulled into an alley way, but instead of backing up and going back in the opposite direction, he stopped.

"Is something wrong?" Arianna said, starting to get nervous. Next thing she knew her door was flung open and she was being dragged out by her hair. She tried to scream but a hand clamped over her mouth. That's when the true terror set in. She did the first thing she could think of and sent her knee towards the man's crotch. He doubled over in pain and Arianna prepared to run but was tackled by the man who had been driving, who had now gotten out of the car. He landed on top of her and went to restrain her arms but no before she could drag her nails across his face.

"Agh!" He cried in pain, and smacked her in the face. The panic started to rise in her throat as her face stung from where he had struck her. That's when something clicked, a survival instinct of sorts. She took his shirt from the front and kicked him in the middle as hard as she could, flipping him over her and onto his back. As he lay there with the wind knocked out of him, his partner had recovered and charged at her. Then something caught her eye on the ground to her left. She ducked and rolled before he could get his arms around her, then got up and hit him in the head with the rusty pipe. The man crumpled to the floor.

The man who was left, seeing that he no longer had the advantage of numbers and that she had a weapon, went to get into the car and flee.

"Oh no you don't," Arianna muttered, running to the car and getting there first. She opened the door, pointing the pipe threateningly at him, and took the keys. The man looked at her for a few seconds, debating whether or not it was worth trying to get the keys back, but decided against it and ran in the opposite direction. Arianna let him go. She wasn't some crazy master assassin. Sherlock would have gone after him, but she wasn't Sherlock, as much as he wanted her to be. She went to go examine the man lying on the ground, hoping she hadn't killed him. Luckily he was still breathing. She flipped her phone open to call John.

* * *

John was sitting in the living room watching television when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hi John, it's Arianna. I uh, need you to come pick me up. Bring Sherlock with you, he'll have to drive the car back," Arianna's voice came out shaky. John stood up, worried.

"Why, what happened?" He asked.

"Uhm, I'll have to-" her voice cracked and she coughed, "explain it when you get here."

"And where exactly is here?"

"That's why I need Sherlock… I don't actually know."

After John had given the phone to Sherlock and Arianna had described her surroundings, Sherlock could tell any place in London from practically a tree, they went downstairs to hail a cab.

Arianna sat on the body of the man. She was afraid he would wake back up so she kept her pipe with her just in case. Her hands were shaking. It was finally starting to sink in what could have happened to her. They could have kidnapped her for money, they could've been rapists. They could have been killers.

"Just calm down," she mumbled to herself. She had to be calm when Sherlock arrived. He wouldn't want her to lose it. It probably happened to him all the time, so he wouldn't be very sympathetic if she were to cry. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to prove she was strong enough, so when the cab pulled up with John and Sherlock inside she had managed to calm herself by taking slow deep breaths. He hands were just barely trembling and her tears stowed back into her eyes, at least for now.

John and Sherlock jumped out of the car.

"Can you stay here for a bit?" John asked the cabbie through the window.

Sherlock's eyes swept over her. Her hair was a mess and it looked like a bruise was forming on her face. Silent rage swept over him. He just stood there quietly as John jogged up behind him and looked shocked at the body she was sitting on.

"What happened?" he exclaimed.

"Well, this man offered to give me a ride. Turned out he was planning to kidnap me, had a partner waiting and everything. The other guy ran away though," Arianna said, trying her hardest to act indifferent. She stood up, letting Sherlock stoop down to examine the man. "It's a shame; I really did hope he would turn out to be nice."

John just stared at her. It was insane how calmly she was reacting. Any other girl would be in hysterics, but she just looked annoyed.

Sherlock watched Arianna from the back as she spoke to John. He could tell she was pretending, her shoulders were stiff and her hands were shaking. She was obviously terrified. What he didn't know was why. Why would she pretend not to care if she was so scared? She wasn't usually one to hide her feelings. He stood up,

"So, I'll take him and the car back to Lestrade. John you take Arianna home in the cab."

John didn't argue and Arianna certainly wasn't interested in staying much longer. She could feel her calmness starting to crumble. So she helped John load her bags into the cab without hesitation. As they got into the cab her breathing started to get faster. She had had panic attacks before, and she could feel one forming in the pit of her stomach.

John looked over at Arianna. Her eyes were wide and her chest rose and fell at such a pace he wondered if she was even getting enough oxygen. Her fists were clenched, her knuckles white.

"Are you okay?" he asked slowly, afraid she might be going into shock.

"That was… one of the most terrifying things… that has ever happened to me…" she said, her voice shaky and higher than usual.

"Really? You seemed pretty calm back there," John said, putting his hand on her knee soothingly.

"I was just pretending," Arianna mumbled, her voice breaking. Tears started to collect in her eyes. She clamped her mouth shut to keep from sobbing. John put his arm around her and pulled her closer.

"Why would you do that?"

"I just wanted… to show Sherlock… that I was brave…" Arianna sniffed. The tears finally spilling from her eyes. John pulled back to look at her, stunned.

"You don't have to prove anything to him. He can't expect you to be like him. He shouldn't expect you to be anything but a normal seventeen year old girl, but luckily you've exceeded those expectations. That doesn't mean that you have to have a heart of stone though. It's alright to be scared. I think that you must've been very brave, if you had been able to fight those two men off by yourself," he said reassuringly, wiping the tears off her cheek with his thumb. Small droplets still hung from her long eyelashes, and it looked like more were coming so he pulled her back onto his chest and stroked her hair.

"Really?" Arianna asked quietly.

"Yes, very brave," John assured her. This seemed to calm her a bit and she was silent for the rest of the ride home.

* * *

Sherlock watched the cab leave until it was around the corner. Then he went into the abandoned car and found a water bottle. Unscrewing the cap, he went to the unconscious man. With a disgusted sneer he poured the contents onto the man's face, who woke up spluttering. Sherlock smirked and called Lestrade.

When he arrived Lestrade wasn't very surprised to find the man bloodied and with a couple broken limbs.

"How many times are you going to do this?" he sighed after the paramedics examined the damage. The man's hair seemed to be dripping wet.

"I don't know what you mean. This is the state he was in when I got here. Arianna had defended herself with that pipe over there," Sherlock said innocently.

"Yeah, she knocked him unconscious, then woke him up with water so she could beat him some more. Definitely sounds like something a seventeen year old girl who just had the scare of her life would do. I'm going to have to ask her some questions, by the way."

"I suppose that's alright."

Lestrade rolled his eyes, Sherlock acted as if he needed his permission. He would have to question the girl whether Sherlock liked it or not.

"I think I'll go now," Sherlock announced.

"Alright, goodnight."

Lestrade didn't notice Sherlock take the suspect's car to leave.

* * *

When Sherlock pulled up to the flat John was waiting outside for him.

"Where's Arianna," he asked, wondering if she was any better.

"She's in bed, in quite a bit of shock," John replied, a sort of blame in his gaze. Sherlock nodded and went to go inside but John stopped him, "She was absolutely terrified, on the verge of hysterics, but she hid it. You know why?"

"No." Sherlock said, confused. He wouldn't expect John to catch something that he didn't.

"It's because she didn't want to disappoint you. She wanted to make you think she was brave. You need to stop being so tough on her. Stop making her feel like she has to be perfect, because she isn't. No one is," John scolded, "Stop making her think she has to be just like you. She isn't you."

"I didn't know," Sherlock said quietly, "I'll make sure to talk to her."

When Sherlock slipped into Arianna's bed he was surprised to see she was already asleep. It was only 10:30 at night. He slowly started to get back out when she stirred.

"Sherlock…?" she mumbled drowsily. He slid back under the covers and turned to face her.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she murmured, "It was scary but I'm okay now…"

"Why did you pretend to be okay before?"

Arianna, still only a quarter awake, scooted close to him, snuggling her face into his chest. Sherlock stiffened, he still couldn't get used to such affectionate actions. She obviously didn't have much clarity of thought at the moment. He doubted she would act this way if she were wide awake.

"I wanted you… to be proud of me… I wanted you to think I was fearless… like you," her words were slurred and he wondered if she would even remember this conversation in the morning.

"I'm not fearless," Sherlock said quietly, remembering how terrifying it was to watch John from a distance as he coped with Sherlock's "death." Seeing his sanity slowly deteriorate, and reach such depression that Sherlock was afraid John would take his own life, scared the living daylights out of him.

"Well you don't cry… at least you're strong…" Arianna said, sighing sleepily.

He wasn't strong though, he remembered when he had to leave John. He had fallen back into his habit, his needle replacing John as his best friend. He had almost killed himself for real this time. He surely would have died if Mycroft hadn't found him and forced him into rehabilitation. If he hadn't stopped in time John would have gone completely insane for sure. He would have left him alone forever. He couldn't bear the thought of John being alone. On his first day out of rehab when he had found John, on the edge of the building where he had jumped, sitting with his knees up to his chin saying out loud,

"Why? Why Sherlock? Why did you leave? Why didn't you let me save you?" Sherlock had cried. He had cried and ran to John and wrapped his arms around him. John thought it was a hallucination. It took a while to convince him otherwise.

"Arianna, it's alright to be scared. I don't want you to ever think I'll be disappointed in you because you're afraid. Don't pretend to be okay when you're not, because I want to be there for you, and I can't help you if I don't know something's wrong." It was true, he didn't want to leave her like he had left John.

"Okay… I promise…" she faded off, falling back asleep. Sherlock felt her breath against his chest and wrapped an arm around her, nestling his face in her hair. He lay like that for a while, awake, feeling her chest rise and fall against him. Eventually the sound of her breathing lulled him to sleep, where he dreamt about John and Arianna and many other things that he would forget by morning.


	11. Headaches

_Sorry it took so long to post this chapter. Usually I try to get out a chapter every day but I've been super busy lately with school work. This one's longer though, so enjoy! :]_

Arianna slid into awareness. It was very warm and she could barely move. There was a strange movement coming from the wall, like it was breathing. Opening her eyes she came face to face with Sherlock's collar bone. Her breath caught. Apparently it wasn't the wall she was up against. She tried to move her head to look around but Sherlock's chin was resting on the top of it. He had his arm wrapped around her middle and their ankles were locked together. He had her trapped in his surprisingly strong arms. She tried to remember how this had happened. She had been alone when she went to bed last night. Small flashes of memory came. _It's alright to be scared… I want to be there for you… _She smiled, closing her eyes again. She stayed like that until he woke up a bit later, stirring and yawning.

"Good morning sleepy head," she said, "It's about time you woke up. I haven't been able to move for a while." He blinked down at her a few times, mind still groggy with sleep, as if he was surprised to find himself there as well. When he realized what happened, he quickly took his arm off of her and untangled their legs.

"I uh, came to talk to you last night and you were half asleep and you…" he started, as if he were afraid she thought he had taken advantage of her in the middle of the night, and was trying to prove his innocence.

Arianna laughed, "Yeah, I know. Well, kind of. I remember a bit of what we talked about, and I've been told I get cuddly when I'm half awake." Sherlock looked relieved. Arianna stood up, a bit too quickly apparently because she got a little dizzy. When the dizziness faded it was replaced with a dull ache in her skull. She grimaced and Sherlock looked at her worriedly. "I'm fine, I just have a headache. Had one yesterday too, must be getting a cold or something." This didn't seem to cheer him up, his brows furrowed as he stared into Arianna's eyes. She looked away, getting butterflies in her stomach. He was so damn gorgeous it was maddening.

"No," he said, frustrated, grabbing her face to make her look at him, "Something is wrong." He led her to the mirror above the fireplace, "Look," he gestured at her eyes. She looked closer at her reflection,

"My pupils…" they were huge. Only the slightest ring of golden brown was visible. She shut them, the sight slightly sickening and adding to her headache. She took a deep breath and opened them again. The shock was still there. As she stared they began to shrink, and with them her headache. When they had resumed a state of normality her head was completely clear. The pain had come and gone within two minutes, just as it did yesterday. She breathed out a gust of relief,

"See? Everything's fine," she smiled at Sherlock. She could tell by his face that everything was absolutely not fine, but she refused to acknowledge it. She knew what he was thinking, something had gone wrong with the drug, but she wasn't ready to go back to her old life. A little head ache every once in a while would be worth it. And he didn't really have any proof that it wasn't just a headache. So before he could say anything she quickly went into the kitchen to make some cereal.

While she was eating someone rang the doorbell. She heard Sherlock go to get it. A few minutes later he returned,

"Lestrade's got a new case for us. Go wake up John and get ready." Arianna sighed and reluctantly went up to John's room. She knocked on the door first, to make sure he wasn't awake and changing. When no response came, she opened the door. John was sound asleep, his body splayed across the bed with his left foot hanging off of the edge. Arianna giggled, he looked more like a toddler when he slept than a grown man.

* * *

John woke to a gentle shaking on his shoulder.

"John, wake up. Lestrade came by, we have to go," a voice said softly. It was strange, usually when he was woken up by someone it was Sherlock. And Sherlock was anything but gentle. "Come on, get up," a hand stroked his head like he was a child. He grumbled and grudgingly opened his eyes to see Arianna looking down at him. "Okay, you're awake," she said, "Now get up, I don't want you falling asleep again."

"I would," John said, stretching, "except I haven't got any trousers on." Luckily he was wearing underwear though, it would have been awkward if the blanket had come off in his sleep and she came in on him naked. Arianna looked at him for a few seconds, debating whether or not she cared. Deciding against it she said,

"Alright, I'll leave. But you better not doze off." With that she turned and went back out the door. John sighed and rolled out of bed. There was no such thing as a day off around here.

After Arianna had finished getting dressed she went to get her shoes on. To her surprise she couldn't find the ones she wanted. Then she remembered that she had left them in Sherlock's room a few days ago when he had wanted to test what changes in certain variables effected balance or something like that. He often didn't say exactly what he was testing, just threw out fragments of sentences and words that sometimes gave clues as to what the experiment was for. She went to his room and strode through the door.

"Sherlock I think I left my shoes in-" she froze. She should have knocked first. Sherlock was apparently changing and she had walked in on him completely naked. And to make it worse, instead of shouting a warning, trying to cover up, or just staying the way he was facing so that she could only see his behind, he turned around to face her like nothing was wrong. Showing her everything she had never thought she would see of him. She yelped and covered her eyes with her hands,

"Sorry! I should have knocked!" she stuttered, feeling her face get so hot it could probably boil water.

"What, never seen a man in the nude before?" She could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I uh, just, I," she stammered, "I thought I left my shoes in there but I'll just come get them later." She spewed out the last bit so quick it was barely comprehensible and stumbled backwards out the door, slamming it behind her. Heart racing one hundred thousand miles an hour she slumped against the wall. Good god. Was there any aspect of him that _wasn't _magnificent? She tried to erase the picture from her mind. It was then that John passed by,

"You alright?" he asked, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yeah, everything's just fine. Absolutely fine. Nothing wrong here. No siree," Arianna said quickly. John gave her a strange look. "You want coffee? How about I make you some coffee," she blurted out, scampering to the kitchen.

They were sitting in the living room, John drinking his coffee, Arianna with her knees drawn up to her chin looking all kinds of conspicuous when Sherlock came in. Dropping her shoes in front of her he said,

"I'm sure you know what to do if you want to avoid such occurrences from now on."

Arianna wouldn't make eye contact with him. Instead she stared at the ground, her face still the red it had been since she had entered his room.

"Did I miss something?" John inquired, looking back and forward between them.

"Oh, Arianna just happened to walk into my room while I was undressed and saw a bit more than she intended," Sherlock said nonchalantly, "She was very surprised judging by her gawking." He made that ever-familiar smirk.

"I didn't gawk!" Arianna protested, "I covered my eyes immediately! And it wouldn't have been so bad if you had just tried to cover up like a normal person, instead of turning around so I could see…" she waved her hands at him spastically, "_everything!"_ She covered her face, as if he were naked in front of her now, trying to block out the mental image.

John chuckled, "Yeah well, Sherlock doesn't really have a sense of privacy. I don't think he'd have a problem walking around London naked if it weren't cold and for the fact that he'd get arrested."

"Don't be preposterous John, it's always important to look professional," Sherlock retorted.

John ignored him, "Well, I'm sorry you had to go through such a traumatizing experience," he said to Arianna.

"It was hardly traumatizing," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes, "It's not like she didn't enjoy it."

"WHAT?" Arianna spluttered, following it with a bunch of random unintelligible noises, "Don't be _ridiculous_!" her voice went up an octave. She finally looked at him, but was overwhelmed immediately with his stare and everything that was going on at the moment so she looked away immediately and jumped out of her chair. "I'm going to go see what Lestrade wants, you guys can sit here and keep saying outrageous things if you want, but I'm not sticking around." She picked up her shoes and marched out, putting them on when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Sherlock and John chuckled to themselves and went to follow her.

* * *

Arianna had to plug her nose as they surveyed the man's body. The smell was far too strong for her sensitive nose. The man had been shot in his apartment and the contents of the safe under the floorboards in his office ransacked. A single rose was left inside the safe. It had happened three days ago, on a Friday night. He lived alone and had no close friends, so nobody noticed he was gone until Monday when he didn't show up for an important work meeting. She and Sherlock looked around the apartment first, looking through possessions and old photos.

Arianna scanned the body, he was in his mid-forties, unhappily divorced (the wife had left), judging by the dates on the back of his children's photos it had been years since he'd seen them. He had a disappointing job, worked hard every day but never had enough presence to be promoted to anything important. Hired a prostitute every week or so (that lesson with Sherlock was quite an interesting experience). In short, he was plain. He was nothing special, a faceless blob in the painting of society. Arianna didn't like to think that way about someone, she always thought that everyone was important in some way to somebody, but this wasn't about personal opinion. This was about the facts.

"Well?" Sherlock said, looking at her with an eyebrow raised. A test.

"He's completely ordinary. Alone, unimportant, and insignificant. But obviously he had something very important. The culprit had to have known the location of the safe and what kind it was to be able to open it with such apparent ease, so he must have done significant research. This would be hard considering that there are no windows and it seemed that the only company this man kept was that of prostitutes. So maybe there are cameras hidden around the room. But how did he get in? Either way the effort to put this together, not to mention that he killed a man, suggests that whatever was in this safe was very valuable. Not money, the man works a relatively low salary job, hires expensive prostitutes, and has a bank card, making it highly unlikely that he would have stacks of cash hidden in a safe. Maybe it was old jewelry that belonged to his ex-wife. He would have kept it out of sentiment after she left him, just like he kept her old perfume and a picture of her in his glasses case. Maybe he accidentally got his hands on something that was more valuable than he thought it was, an artifact from the black market perhaps, and someone was sent to retrieve it. I'm sure you have even more ideas than me, Sherlock."

Sherlock gave her a proud smile, quite like the one he gave John when he thought no one was looking. She smiled back. The feeling of accomplishment was delightful.

"Excuse me, but who is this exactly?" Lestrade cut in, "You can't just keep bringing random people to the crime scenes! I'm hardly allowed to have you here by yourself!"

"This is my apprentice. Arianna, meet Detective Inspector Lestrade. I do believe he had something he wanted to speak to you about. Run along," Sherlock waved them off.

Arianna was pleased beyond measure. This was the first time he had actually referred to her as his apprentice. But she wasn't too happy about being sent off, she wanted to help more. She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off with his eyes. She could tell he just wanted her to do this so that Lestrade would be distracted. Sighing, she relented.

Lestrade ran a hand through his hair, "Yeah I do, I suppose. Come on, we'll go outside so we can be away from this smell." Arianna didn't hesitate; she was starting to get nauseated. The smell was practically crashing over her, like ongoing waves at the beach.

While Lestrade questioned her about the man from yesterday and the car and all the other little details, she studied him. He had just a bit of a rugged handsomeness. His hair was graying and wore weary demeanor, like he had spent just a few too many nights up on cases, one too many fights with his wife, trying much too hard to make it work with a woman who simply didn't care for him anymore. She tried not to pity him. This was one of the less favorable parts of Sherlock's training, sometimes it would be nice not to know so many aspects of someone's life. He had the eyes of someone who had seen more than any man should ever see, like John, but knows that _somebody_ has to bear that burden. He was brave enough to choose the life surrounded by death because it had to be done. Arianna couldn't help but admire him.

"You know, there's been quite a lot of talk about you around here," He said when he was finished.

"Why's that?"

"We were all wondering how you would turn out. Afraid you wouldn't survive very long with that mad-" he coughed, "uh… unusual man."

Arianna laughed, "Yeah, I'd definitely say it's been quite an experience. No need to be worried though, I think I've managed pretty well so far. Thank you for worrying though. It's nice to know that there would be someone to rescue me if something had gone terribly wrong. And thank you for everything else too."

"What else have I done?" Lestrade said, puzzled.

"Just everything. For doing your job even though it's hard. You must not get thanked very often, since your job is to solve cases about people who are already dead. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate your courage to stand up and do the job that few men will ever consider doing, and the time you spent in the ungodly hours of the night even though you're exhausted." She said it so casually, as if she were talking about the weather, "So thank you," and with that she hugged him.

Lestrade was stunned. He could tell by the look in her eyes how much she knew about him while they were speaking, he often saw that look in Sherlock's eyes. But very unlike Sherlock, who used this information in a very cruel way, she used it to make him feel… better. He was very touched. He barely knew this girl, but she managed to tell him exactly what he needed to hear. He put his arms around her and sighed inwardly. It was the first hug he'd had in a while. His wife wasn't very generous with affection, and he almost never saw his kids.

Arianna felt the same way. She had been here for a little over a month. And though she did consider John and Sherlock kind of as friends, she didn't have any real friends. She didn't have friends that she could just hug because they wanted to show their affection to each other like she did at home. So it was nice to hug someone to make them feel like someone cared. When they let go, they just stood there silently for a bit, neither knowing what to say. Then a sharp pain crashed into Arianna's skull. She doubled over a bit, her breathing ragged. She couldn't see, and there was a loud pounding in her ears.

"Are you all right?" Lestrade asked, startled.

"Yeah, just a headache. I think I'm getting a bit of a head cold," she looked up to smile reassuringly at him. Lestrade took a sudden step backwards,

"Good god!" Her eyes were like something out of an exorcism movie. Her pupils were huge, with no iris visible at all. He stared, open mouthed. Arianna doubled back over in pain. Lestrade started to panic, putting a hand on her shoulder he said,

"Do we need to get you to a hospital?"

Arianna barely heard him. She thought she might die from the pain, flashing through her head like lightning. Then suddenly Sherlock was beside her. She knew it was him from his smell and the way his hand felt on her back. He took her arm and made her sit down on the bench next to the door. He squatted down in front of her,

"Arianna, look at me," she shook her head. It hurt too much, "Arianna I need you to look at me. Now."

She slowly uncovered her eyes and looked up, tears streaming down her face. Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath. This was much worse than before. Lestrade swore. She started to cover her face again but Sherlock held her hands down.

"Just keep looking at me. You can do it. Keep your eyes on mine," he ordered. John came outside, wondering where Sherlock had gone. When he saw them he rushed over, seeing that something was wrong. When he saw Arianna's eyes he choked.

"What the _hell?_" He exclaimed.

Sherlock ignored him,

"Alright, take deep breaths and don't let your eyes leave mine. Just take deep breaths."

"I can't see you!" Arianna cried out.

"Just look straight ahead. I'll make my eyes meet yours."

John had never seen Sherlock like this. Sherlock wasn't of the nurturing nature, but he was trying to help Arianna as if his own life depended on it.

Arianna had stopped crying, the pain was so great it seemed as if her eyes were broken. She stared blindly ahead, imagining Sherlock's blue eyes, focusing on the image. She breathed slowly and unevenly. Then, as it had done that morning, it started to fade. The pain retracted like a sphere, going from everywhere and becoming more and more compact. Her vision started to come back and she could see the vague outline of Sherlock's face. Finally it was gone and she could see again. Her eyes locked onto Sherlock's panicked stare. When he saw that she had returned to normality he sighed a breath of relief, dropping his head onto her knees.

Arianna gave a shaky laugh, "Sorry bout that…"


	12. Beauty is a Subjective Term

It took tons of convincing to keep Lestrade from calling an ambulance. At one point the argument got so heated, it seemed as if Lestrade was going to punch Sherlock in the face. John had to calm them both down and be the voice of reason, saying that he would check it out when they got home, since he was a doctor.

On the way home Sherlock talked about what Arianna had missed while she was outside. They had found a rose brand on the back of the man's neck. She had been right about the cameras; there were a total of 7, giving a complete view of the room. Sherlock had noticed the sleeping spots of homeless people across the street. Apparently he had some sort of secret information network with them, and he planned on returning that night to question them.

None of them said a word about the incident. It weighed down on them, the thunderous unspoken truth. Sherlock had said there was a thirty percent chance it would be fatal. Her odds weren't looking good right now. It seemed there were going to be a few drawbacks. She tried to sound cheerful as they talked, but there was an obviously artificial tone to her voice.

Arianna knew that everything they weren't saying would have to come out once they got home. Home? When had she started referring to 221B as home? It seemed like she had been there for ages. It _was _home. She couldn't imagine going back to America, sleeping in her queen-sized bed all alone. She shuddered at the thought as the cab pulled up to the flat.

When they walked through the door Arianna immediately rushed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. This would delay the conversation. She knew it had to happen, but she couldn't bring herself to face it.

John sighed as he heard the shower turn on,

"It's the drug, isn't it?" Sherlock nodded. John ran his hands over his face, "How many times has this happened?"

"This is the third time, but it's the first time it's been this extreme."

"Can you find a way to fix it?"

"Yes, I'll just have to make an antidote of sorts."

"I don't think we have that much time for you to concoct another magical potion Sherlock," John said, shaking his head.

"No, I won't have to create something entirely new. Because I know all the components of the original and how they all function, it will be simple enough to create a remedy."

"I sure hope so," John said tiredly. If they ended up being the cause of this girl's destruction, if she developed a permanent disability or even died, he didn't know what he would do. What would they tell her parents? Although she definitely seemed closer to Sherlock than him, he had become quite accustomed to having her around. She always lightened up the mood, helped with things like shopping and dishes, which Sherlock never did. And he had seen the change in Sherlock as well, he was a bit softer. It was good for him. John looked at Sherlock's worried face. Yes, it was good for him to learn to care for others. Maybe then he wouldn't be so willing to put them in danger for the sake of science.

* * *

Arianna sat in the shower with her chin on her knees. The hot water poured over her face. She didn't know how long she had been in there, but her fingers were getting wrinkled so it must have been at least forty-five minutes. She knew Sherlock or John would be in there to retrieve her eventually. It would be the only way to get her out. The single thing that would make her have this conversation would be by force. She knew that Sherlock would try to give her something to reverse it. But she couldn't do that. She wanted to be useful. She wanted to be beautiful. She was finally close to being Sherlock's equal, and now it looked like that was all going to collapse. She hadn't said anything, but while they were in the car her head had started hurting again. It wasn't the extreme pain like before, just a dull ache. The only thing was it hadn't gone away. It was a barely noticeable pain in the back of her mind.

Her mind had started to wander when it landed upon the occurrence this morning. She shifted and put her forehead on her knees. Oh God. She had remembered. It was a picture that would be etched in her brain for all eternity. She recalled what he had said, _What, never seen a mad in the nude before?_ In truth, she hadn't. Unless you counted health books, and that time her friend thought it would be funny to email her a link of porn. Not in real life though. And even though she didn't have much to compare it to, she could tell it was quite sizeable. She groaned. The part that bothered her most was when he said that she'd enjoyed it. He was so damn sure of himself, and he definitely had reason to. Why did he always say things like that, as if she fancied him? It's not like she had feelings for him or anything, right? She just enjoyed his company, like a friend, and it was perfectly normal to be aware of the fact that someone was attractive. Wasn't it? She didn't have fantasies about them getting married, or have the urge to write their names together or _Arianna Holmes_ with hearts all over. Besides, it would be ridiculously reckless for her to like him, he was ten years older than her, and obviously didn't have such feelings for women. And if there was a chance of him developing romantic feelings toward someone, it would be John.

After her sophomore year in high school, she'd started doing this thing where she wouldn't like someone unless it was reasonable to assume that she had a chance. If she ever found herself attracted to someone who already had a girlfriend, or had moved far away, she would just stop. She knew it wasn't normal, but it was better to do that than to be hurt. She didn't know how she did it. She just realized how much harder it would make her life to like a certain person and she cut the feelings for them out. Like she was choosing whether or not to eat cereal or toast in the morning. When her friend Bella would assume that she liked someone, Arianna would often say no, because it would be pointless to do so. As a result she hadn't really liked someone since the beginning of her junior year. Almost everyone that she started to have feelings for had a reason why she shouldn't, so she didn't.

Sherlock would be the most idiotic decision of her heart she would ever make. It would be a mistake. So there was no way she could like him. That's just how her mind worked. It would probably be the downfall of her chances of finding someone. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if she ended up single for the rest of her life.

She didn't really know whether or not she minded.

* * *

Sherlock and John gave Arianna a little over an hour before they started to worry.

"What if she's having another attack in there?" John said.

Sherlock got out of his chair, "I'll go check on her. It's about time she came out anyways."

He knocked on the bathroom door, and when no response came he went in. He could barely see through the steam.

"Arianna, are you all right?" No answer. "If you are you'd better tell me, because if I don't know for sure I'm coming in there to get you, and I don't think you want that."

"It's not like it matters," Arianna mumbled, "You've already seen me naked."

"Well it's time to come out, we need to talk."

"I don't want to," she replied stubbornly. Sherlock didn't understand why she was being so adamant about this. Did she consider her super senses and strength really worth her life?

"Why not?"

"Because I know you're going to say that you have to give me something to reverse it and the answer is no. I don't want to. The headaches are worth it. I want to be useful for you. I want to stay beautiful like I am now. I can't go back."

"Is _that_ what this is all about?" Sherlock exclaimed, "Because you want to stay thin?" He reached through the shower curtain and turned the water off. Then picked up a towel, whipped aside the curtains, and threw it over her. "You do realize that it won't just be headaches? You could _die._" Arianna's body was wracked with shivers at the sudden cold, pulling the towel around her like a blanket she stared up at him. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

"The treatment wasn't supposed to be for that at all. I honestly don't believe it increased your beauty at all." Sherlock could see in her eyes that she took it the wrong way, like she wasn't ever beautiful in the first place to him.

"That's not what I meant," he said exasperated, "I meant you were very beautiful already, and that in my opinion the drug didn't really make a difference."

He could tell by the way she looked at him that she didn't believe him.

"Really…?" she said distrustfully.

"Do you really think I'd ever lie about my opinion?"

She shook her head.

"Not that my opinion is widespread. I honestly doubt that I have the same idea of beauty as everyone else, but you are to me. And I'm sure that John would agree."

Arianna turned red as she looked up at him.

_There was no way she could like him. That's just how her mind worked._

Right?


	13. Couple's Quarrels

_Sorry bout the chapter lengths everyone. I've just been really busy with school lately and I want to update as often as possible and I keep finding these really good ending points D:. Hopefully me updating it every day or every other day will make up for it. Thank you so much for the reviews! You guys are so sweet and I make the most unattractive faces and noises in my happiness when I get really positive feedback like I have been lately. Thank you for reading and being awesome and stuff! :D_

Arianna lay in bed alone. She had agreed to take another medicine to reverse the effects of the first one. So Sherlock had immediately begun working on it, and said he would continue to do so, without sleep. He had assured her that he would be done in at three days at the most. He also informed her that her body would stay the same, it would just require effort to maintain, unlike now when it would just stay the way it was without exercise.

"You'll just have to take me on more of your adventures then," she had said, smiling.

She was tired, but even more so she was scared. Sherlock said that it wouldn't take long for the medicines full negative effect to arrive. She asked how long and he hadn't answered, scaring her even more. She could see the unsaid sentence in his eyes. She might not even make it through the night. Sherlock promised he would check on her every half an hour, and that he would leave his door open so that there was no chance he wouldn't hear her if she were to call for him. It wasn't enough though. She just couldn't sleep, alone and scared as she was. So after about forty minutes of tossing and turning she got up and went to John's room. She knocking on the door she called softly,

"John?"

"Come in," she heard John say from inside. She opened the door slowly,

"Um… John… I was wondering if maybe I could… Sherlock's working and I've gotten used to… Could I maybe lay in bed with you? If that's alright?" She said nervously. John had been propped up on a pillow reading a book.

"Yeah, that's fine," he patted on the pillow next to him. Arianna walked to the bed and slipped under the covers. "Does the light bother you? I can turn the lamp off if you want."

"No, it's okay. You can keep reading," she replied.

They both lay there silently for a few minutes. Arianna was cold. She felt frail and unstable. Looking for warmth she slid closer to him. To John's mild surprise she moved even closer, putting her head under his arm and putting her face against his torso. She curled up into a ball and closed her eyes. John could almost feel the anxiety and fear coming off of her in waves. He rested his hand on her head and stroked her hair reassuringly. Arianna smiled.

* * *

Sherlock crept down to the living room to check on Arianna, hopefully she would be asleep. To his surprise she wasn't there. This worried him. He went to check in the bathroom. She wasn't there either. He started to panic. Hurrying up to John's room his mind raced through all the possibilities. He flung open the door,

"John-" he stopped. Arianna was in there, snuggled up against John while he read.

"Shh. She's sleeping," John said in a hushed tone.

"How has she been? Any trouble?"

"Not really. She's just scared, and a bit weak."

"Good…" Sherlock said quietly, "Thank you for taking care of her."

"You say that as if I'm just doing you a favor. I care about her too."

"I know, I just…"

"I know, you were worried," John finished for him. Sherlock smiled. John always knew when Sherlock was worried or upset.

"You guys are such a couple," Arianna said, startling John. "You sound like a married pair talking about their child." She yawned. Sherlock chuckled.

"We're not a couple," John said immediately.

"You're so defensive about it. Are you sure?"

"Definitely."

"For now…" she mumbled, drifting back off to sleep.

Sherlock smiled and left, closing the door behind him.

Sherlock had miraculously made the new medicine by midday the next day. Arianna reluctantly took it, hoping she wouldn't go through the same torment as last time. Luckily she didn't. Instead, her vision and hearing just slowly faded throughout the day. She felt like she was going blind, but she knew it was just going back to normal. The contrast was just so extreme that ordinary vision was a bit of a shock. Her speech also came a bit louder, as she was used to being able to hear herself clearly by just speaking quietly. Everything was back to normal though. Sherlock had been out for a few hours, collecting his information through his secret homeless service. He had just come back and told them they he had a suspicion that the culprit was disguised as a prostitute. Or maybe it _was_ a prostitute hired to kill him and retrieve the item from the safe.

He was listing his ideas as to what might be in the safe when John called from the kitchen,

"Sherlock! How many times do I have to tell you that you can't put dirty dishes back in the cabinet! You have to wash them after you use them!"

"What's the difference? It's just food. Food is exactly what's going on there next anyways."

"Yes but food goes bad! It's disgusting!"

"Well if it bothers you that much, wash them yourself," Sherlock huffed.

"I'm not your mother Sherlock! I'm not going to do all the housework like a maid or a housewife!"

Sherlock opened his mouth to retaliate but Arianna cut him off,

"Will you two just shut up and kiss already?" These arguments happened all the time in 221B, Arianna called them their "Lovers' quarrels." They were starting to get old. "How long is it gunna take you two to realize that you're completely in love with each other?"

She could practically hear John shaking his head in the kitchen. She laughed,

"You always protest so much! I can't help myself!" she paused, "Although… Sherlock never seems to deny it at all. I wonder why that is." She smirked.

"Because I know you are joking, and we are obviously not in a relationship so there is no point in arguing about it with you," Sherlock stated.

"What about the in love part? That's not so obvious."

"Because we are both obviously not gay!" John interjected, coming into the living room, "Technically Sherlock's not anything!"

"Well, just because Sherlock may not have any sexual drive, doesn't mean that he doesn't have the capability to experience the emotional side of love. And if that's true, I don't think gender would make much of a difference to him," Arianna said in a matter-of-fact tone. She looked at Sherlock for his opinion. He stared at her peculiarly for a while.

"I suppose that is a reasonable deduction. I don't believe that gender would decide whether or not I become romantically attached to someone, as unlikely as that event is."

"Well I'm still not gay!" John exclaimed.

"Maybe you're not. Maybe Sherlock is just the exception," Arianna said thoughtfully. John threw his hands up and went back into the kitchen.

"Why are you trying so hard to convince us that we have feelings for each other? Why does it matter to you so much all of a sudden?" Sherlock asked, examining her intently.

"I-it doesn't matter to me at all," she stammered, "I was just stating my observations."

It made her think. Why was she trying so hard to convince them that they were in love? Was she actually trying to convince herself? It was reasonable enough. The one boyfriend she ever had, had dumped her. They ended up being friends later, and due to his flamboyant nature she had tried to convince him that he was gay. She probably just hoped that he was so she could feel better about herself, like it wasn't her fault; he just liked guys is all. And then it also went along with her mind frame of not liking anyone unless it was logical. Maybe she was trying to make it illogical to like him, because he was gay, so that she could get over him faster. And now, if she was being honest with herself, this was probably an automatic reflex to erase her not quite established feelings for Sherlock before they could become anything concrete. She really didn't want to be honest with herself. She'd rather just not have any chance of having feelings for him, and have the reason for this coupling of him and John just be because she thought they were good for each other.

She shook the thoughts from her head, "Here, I'll wash the dishes for you John," she said, getting up and going into the kitchen, "I'm okay with being the housewife."

Sherlock watched her from his chair, thinking. This girl was turning out to be quite a puzzle. Not that he minded. He'd always enjoyed puzzles.


	14. Curiosity Killed the Cat

Sherlock walked through the gaggle of prostitutes, surveying each one. They smiled and fluttered their eyelashes at him, throwing promises of a "good time." Sherlock ignored them all, only looking for maybe three seconds to determine whether or not she was the one he was looking for. John and Arianna were in a resturaunt across the street, feigning that they were father and daughter. The people around them, however, seemed to think otherwise, staring quite rudely. Oh well, it didn't really matter. As long as people couldn't tell that they were with Sherlock it didn't matter. They watched carefully from the window while staying as inconspicous as possible. It was a small greasy resturaunt, and it smelled strongly of oil and burnt fries. Sherlock finally stopped at one of the women. She had frizzed curly blonde hair, way too much eyeshadow on, and fishnet stockings that were torn in a few places. Arianna wrinkled her nose, she had seen many prostitutes in her lifetime from when she had lived in a relatively shady city back in America. She knew the kinds of things they must be saying to Sherlock, gross tastelesss things, promises of the best pleasure ever when they were just stretched out nasty hags. Not that she didn't pity them. They were all in such a bad place that they had to sell their own bodies. She couldn't imagine being driven to such means. She tensed when Sherlock stopped to talk to one of the women, ready to get up and run.

The women around Sherlock grumbled as he stopped at the one, giving up on trying to get him to pick them.

"Can I do something for you doll?" The woman drawled, putting a hand on Sherlock's chest.

"Yes actually," Sherlock said indifferently, "I was wondering if you could tell me about this." He pulled a single rose out of his jacket. The woman blinked at him for a few seconds, confused. Then her eyes widened with realization. She turned and sprinted away. Sherlock ran after her.

Arianna and John jumped up. Arianna slapped a fifty on the table, more than enough for the food and the tip, and they ran out the door. It didn't take long for them to catch her, she was wearing six inch heels after all. They ended up, quite conveniently, cornering her in a dead end alley way. Sherlock had assumed that she would run, and that she wouldn't kill herself either. As a prostitute, there wasn't much she had left to lose besides her life. Seeing she was cornered she began to beg,

"Please don't kill me! I was just payed to do it! I didn't want to! I just really needed the money!"

"Tell me who hired you," Sherlock demanded.

"I can't," the woman cried, "they'll kill me if I do!"

"We can protect you, just tell us," John cut in.

"No, he said they can find me anywhere, I don't want to die!"

"We promise they won't hurt you," Arianna said soothingly, trying to calm her down, "We know some of the best police personally. They'll protect you."

The woman wavered for a moment. Then she hesitantly opened her mouth,

"He-" a sudden noise cut her off. Her head knocked back as a red sploch appeared on her forehead. She fell to the ground, dead.

"Shit!" Arianna exclaimed, looking around for cover. But there was no second shot. Sherlock looked around frantically, trying to see which angle the bullet came from. He looked up at a window on the third floor in an abandoned building across the street.

"There!" he shouted, taking off towards it. John and Arianna followed behind him. Sherlock burst through the door and tore up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. Arianna and John didn't have the gift of incredibly long legs though, so they made it to the third floor at least thirty seconds later than he did. All of them panting, they looked for the sniper. No one was there. Instead on the window was written,

_Curiousity killed the cat._

On the windowsill lay a rose.

"Damn!" Sherlock swore, hitting the wall. Arianna sighed and took her phone out of her pocket. Dialing a number and putting the phone up to her ear she said,

"Lestrade? Yeah, we're gunna need you to come down to the abandoned textile building," she paused, listening, "Yeah. We found the killer, but before we got to question her she was shot. Okay, see you in a bit."

She looked at the window. It was written in red. A threat. Even though there was only one rose, the smell clouded the room, like a strong perfume. Whoever this was, they sure were putting a lot of effort into making an impression. What was up with this guy and roses? She rubbed her temples. It seemed as if this shadow of a person would always be one step ahead of them. It worried her. Sherlock was confident enough that he was untouchable, but was he? This person was good, and they didn't want Sherlock in their business. It didn't seem like he had any intention of getting out of it any time soon. _Curiousity killed the cat. _They would have to be extra careful.

* * *

Lestrade pinched the bridge of his nose as his men zipped up the body bag and lifted it into the truck. Why did it seem that things just got more complicated when Sherlock was involved? Sherlock was about to sweep away like he always did, barely providing explanation or signs of remorse, but Arianna stayed to talk to him.

"Sorry bout this Lestrade," she sighed, "We weren't really expecting this to happen."

"It's alright," he said, "You can call me Greg though, by the way."

"Alright, Greg," Arianna smiled, "I'll see you later then."

"I'm sure you will," he smiled back.

They turned to leave and John raised an eyebrow at her.

"What?" she asked.

"You can call him Greg?" He said suspiciously, "He's never said that to me."

"That's cuz I'm prettier than you," Arianna teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Not to mention you hugged him the last time we saw him, why did you do that?" Sherlock cut in.

Of course he had been watching. Now she knew how he had gotten there so fast when she had her attack.

"Because I could tell he need a hug as much as I did," she said quietly. Sherlock looked at her, confused. Why did she need a hug? Was this another one of those affection things that he didn't get?

John didn't react. He understood completely. Here she was, in a completely new country, without her family, without any friends her age, stuck with two men who were ten years older than her. That Tom boy would have been good for her, but of course Sherlock had gone off and ruined that. Sherlock should have let her go to the school. He knew how she felt. She was lonely, just as he had been many times before. And although she and Sherlock were close, it wasn't enough. He couldn't relate to her as well as someone her own age could. Not to mention Sherlock was her mentor, Arianna needed a friend, and she tried very hard to make them just that. He could see it now, all the things he hadn't noticed before, the way she always sat close very close to them, how she couldn't sleep alone, how on edge she seemed when they returned from being gone all day, how she was always so eager to go along with them everywhere, how hurt she looked when Sherlock had sent her away with Lestrade. They were all she had at the moment, and she was trying to make the most of it, growing much closer to them than expected of someone in only about a month.

John put an arm around Arianna's shoulders as they walked. She felt that he could understand and leaned into him slightly. Sherlock just looked at them, his expression becoming more confused by the second. Sherlock meant a lot to her, but she didn't know how long she would last without John there as well. John added the compassion and understanding of affection that she needed and Sherlock lacked. He was her cushion and her safety net. He was the honey in the bee's nest that was their insane, dangerous lives. She leaned back away and took his hand, and took Sherlock's in her other, smiling contentedly as they walked.


	15. A Lesson in Affection

"Close your eyes, and wipe everything from your mind," Sherlock said quietly as he sat across from Arianna on the bed. They both sat crosslegged with their knees touching. Arianna did as she was told, taking slow deep breaths, like meditation.

"Now, I'm going to say word, and you're going to list everything that comes to mind." This was a lesson in not just observing, but finding connections and clues hidden in small details.

"Rabbit." Arianna paused for a second, it was such a random word. She was expecting something much deeper or thought provoking.

"Uhm. Easter… Year of the Rabbit… Herbivores… Rodents… Tortoise and the Hare… Tales of Peter Rabbit…" The last one was a story book her mother used to read to her when she was little, "Konijen," the Dutch translation, "Winnie the Pooh… uhm…" her eyebrows furrowed, this was more difficult than she expected. How many things did she expect her to think of from the word rabbit? "Carrots… The killler rabbit of caerbannog from Monty Python and the Holy Grail…?" she was running out of ideas. John, who was sitting in the chair reading the paper, laughed at this.

"John if you're going to disrupt I would appreciate it if you would leave," Sherlock snapped.

"I can't think of anything else," Arianna said. Sherlock looked disappointed. "Sorry," she said quickly. She didn't like it when Sherlock was disappointed in her. It made her feel rotten. She frowned when he didn't respond.

"Rose." He said, keeping a completely blank face.

"Beauty, thorns, valentine's day, romance, perfume, Beauty and the Beast, petals, marriage, rosemary, rosewater" She tried to think of the other meanings of rose, "rose from bed, rose from the dead, zombies, mummies, ghosts, sunrise, rising up, rebellion…" she faded off, this one was better, but she still hit a dead end. "Uh…" she opened her eyes.

"Better," Sherlock said, "Orange." Arianna closed her eyes again and began to think.

* * *

"You're quiet tonight," Arianna said, looking at Sherlock as he lay next to her staring at the ceiling. It had been ten minutes since they'd gotten into bed and he hadn't said a word. She could feel tension coming off of him, like he wanted to say something but couldn't for some reason.

She was right of course. Sherlock didn't want to be the teacher tonight. He wanted to learn what he wasn't getting about this whole affection thing. He wanted to be able to understand John and Arianna more when it came to their emotions and feelings. He just had no idea how to ask. He fumbled around with words in his head before he finally found something that wasn't too awkward,

"Earlier, when you said that you hugged Lestrade because you could tell he needed a hug as much as you did, what did you mean by that?"

Arianna stared for a few seconds, surprised, "Er, well, he just has a very difficult and emotionally scarring job and I could tell it was wearing him down. And I could see that he had been having ongoing problems with his wife and he was feeling tired and unappreciated. A very empty feeling starts to grow inside someone when they go for too long without any gestures of affection, or the feeling that someone cares about them." She didn't think Sherlock would understand though, as he didn't seem to care about affection or love at all. It was a rare thing for him to care so much about John, and from what she had heard from Mycroft he hadn't been too bad off before John came along.

"And what did you mean when you said you needed a hug?"

"I, uh… It just gets kind of lonely when the only two people I see are grown men, one of which only wants me around to experiment on and become a miniture version of himself. And at the time I felt weak because of the numerous headaches I'd been having. Back at home, me and my friends were always holding hands and hugging and kissing because we wanted eachother to know that they were important. I was just so used to all those displays of affection that it's a bit of a shock for me to suddenly have practically none."

"Kissing? Isn't that a bit more than friendship though?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"Not necessarily. Kissing isn't always sexual, it just shows that you love someone. It's not like we were making out. It was just on the cheek most of the time. Unless it was me and my best friend Bella, she had a lot of problems with her family and wasn't getting much at home, so I felt like she needed extra love."

"You were in love with her?"

Arianna sighed, "Sherlock, love doesn't necessarily mean _in_ love. You can love someone and not want to be with them romantically. It just means that they mean a whole lot to you, and that you couldn't imagine life without them. I mean, it's hard to explain… But if you love someone, not seeing them for more than a week can feel like a year."

Sherlock had to think about this. Who knew all this love stuff was so complicated? Did this mean that he loved John? He didn't think of him romantically, but life without him was torture. He hated being apart from him, and when he was with him he was instantly happier. He was his only friend, at least until Arianna came along, and so he was his best friend. He was his John.

"So… these things, make you happy? Why?"

"Well, whenever I hug someone it just makes me feel warm and safe inside. It's like this blanket that wraps around me and blocks all the bad things out. It's hard to describe… I had a lot of problems with depression a year or so ago. I always felt frail and cold and empty. When someone I really cared about hugged me though, I was just filled up with this warmth. Sometimes hugs can convey the feelings that you can't get out with words. A lot can be said with a hug or a kiss, and a lot can be fixed," she stopped, "Wow, I sound really corny."

Sherlock didn't say anything for a bit. He just picked up her hand and flipped it over, tracing the lines on her palm with his finger. Arianna watched him silently, wondering what he was thinking.

"So… you're lonely because you don't receive as many affectionate gestures or signs that you are cared about… Does this mean that if you did you would be happier?"

"Um… I guess so," Arianna said quietly. Without another word Sherlock grabbed ahold of her forearm and pulled her to him with her head on his chest. She froze, she hadn't been expecting that. Waiting for him to say something else she held very still. Then she felt him bend his head down and put his lips to the top of her head. It wasn't really a kiss, just his lips resting on her. She understood. He was trying to learn how to be kind, to show that he cared. He just didn't know what to say, so he was saying it physically. He didn't need words, she could feel his anxiousness to show that he could be affectionate like her. She relaxed and listened to his heartbeat. It didn't take long for the rhythym and the warmth to lull her to sleep.

* * *

John was having a bad day. He had gotten a call from his sister, a drunken call to be exact, at nine in the morning. It had been a month since she'd quit drinking for the third time. He sipped his tea and stared at the paper, not really reading it. His eyes just skimmed over the words, and after finishing the same paragraph for the fifth time and realizing he hadn't retained a bit of it, he gave up. He sighed and put the newspaper down.

"Everything alright?" Arianna asked from behind her laptop, she was working on her schoolwork. Sherlock was sitting on the chair, pondering god knows what.

"Yeah, I just got a call from my sister this morning. Not a good one to say the least."

"Oh, I'm sorry…" She said, frowning. Sherlock came out of his thoughts and looked at John as he stood and said,

"I think I'll go grocery shopping now."

"You want me to go with you?" Arianna said, closing her laptop.

"No, I think I'd rather go alone," he started to leave.

Sherlock stood up and took his arm. Then he did something very unexpected. He pulled John closer and hugged him. It was an awkward gesture, but it was Sherlock and that was to be expected. When he let go, he didn't step away. Instead, he took Johns face, leaned in, and kissed him right on the mouth. Arianna's jaw dropped. John pulled away, red faced and spluttering,

"What on Earth was that?"

"Arianna said it was okay because I love you," Sherlock said simply. John started to stutter again but Sherlock cut him off, "Not in love with you. I just love you as a friend and I was trying to show you so you would be happy."

Arianna covered her mouth. John gave her an incredulous look. She shook her head at him. It looked like Sherlock had slightly misunderstood. She started to giggle. His first kiss was _John_. John just stared at them both, lost for words. Giving up on trying to make sense of it he turned around and left, the back of his neck and ears were bright red. Arianna nearly died with laughter.


	16. Dreams and Cookies

_yayyyy! this is a longer chapter again! Hope you guys like it! Thank you so much for the reviews. I never expected so many readers! You have no idea how happy it makes me when you guys like it. For those of you who were wondering, I am indeed from the US. Thank you again! 3_

Arianna woke up with a start. It was still dark. She looked over at Sherlock, his face was crumpled in a bit and he was breathing heavily. Dreaming. He often had dreams about running or fighting, but she had gotten used to them and they hardly ever woke her up anymore. She wondered what was different this time. He squirmed. She was about to roll over and go back to sleep when he mumbled,

"Arianna…"

What? He was dreaming about her? If he was saying her name that could be what woke her up. But maybe she had heard wrong. He said it again, louder. Nope, she heard right. She had heard enough, this was getting a bit too freaky for her.

"Sherlock!" Arianna exclaimed, shaking him. "Sherlock wake up!"

He woke with a gasp, sitting straight up and panting heavily. He look at her with wide shocked eyes. He jumped and scooted away from her. Arianna started to grow alarmed,

"I think you were having a nightmare," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. He flinched at her touch. She quickly withdrew her hand, "So I woke you up." She could see in the dim light, as her eyes adjusted, that he was sweating.

He stared at her for a bit, breath rate slowing. He finally relaxed a bit and stuttered,

"Yes, uhm, a nightmare." Arianna put a hand on his face,

"I think you have a fever, do you feel alright?" He flinched again at her touch, but she didn't take her hand away this time. His face was on fire. She hoped he wasn't sick.

"I, uh, yes. I feel fine."

Arianna's brows furrowed a bit. Why was he acting so strange? What kind of nightmare was he having that made him so jumpy? Why had he been calling out her name?

Sherlock was in shock. He had never had such a strange dream before. He could barely even remember it now, only flashes of heat and skin and… He swallowed audibly.

"What were you dreaming about?" Arianna asked him. He froze. How should he answer? Surely not with the truth, he hardly even knew what he was dreaming about himself. This was something he had to keep to himself.

"I don't really remember anymore." Vivid images flashed before his eyes, he closed and rubbed them, as if the images were something physical that could be wiped away. He felt his face grow hotter under her gaze. That damn stare of hers always gave him the feeling that she could see right through him. Hopefully she couldn't. He didn't know how she would react if she knew. "Did I say anything?"

"Yeah…" Arianna said quietly, looking down, "you said my name…"

"Oh," was all Sherlock said. Shit. He faked a cough, "Yes, I think I may be becoming ill."

"Well luckily I know how to take care of sick people." She didn't get sick very often, and it was a common occurrence at her house for her entire family to get sick excluding her. So she ended up taking care of them a lot. "I'll just have to make you soup and make sure you get lots of rest," she smiled. "I'll have you better in no time." She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

"What kind of kiss was that?" Sherlock asked. Arianna raised an eyebrow,

"Um, it was a protective kiss I suppose. Like a gesture of endearment… To be comforting, and reassuring." She didn't know why he was so curious about this.

"And what would a thank you kiss be like?" She started to grow a bit alarmed when he said this.

"Uhm, I guess it would be a kiss on the cheek…" No way, he wasn't going to…

Sure enough he leaned over and gave her a small kiss on the cheek, his blazing lips hot against her cool skin. She nearly jumped out of her skin, "I think the fever is getting to your head."

"Hmm…" was his only response. He laid back down. She laid down as well, taking his hand and interlocking their fingers.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"You're a bit strange, you know that right?"

"Yes… You too though."

"I know."

* * *

Sherlock woke to the smell of vanilla. The bed was empty. Laughter drifted from the kitchen along with the aroma. He found Arianna and John in kitchen, talking and making what looked like cookies, with small patches of flour all over their arms and front. He cleared his throat. Arianna turned around and grinned,

"Good morning! You look better than I expected. How are you feeling?" Cleaning off one hand and going to him to feel his face she said, "Cool as a cucumber. I wonder why you were so warm last night." Sherlock shrugged. "Me and John are making sugar cookies, I ordered some custom shape cutters and they just came in the mail today. Do you want to help?"

"No, I rarely participate in such childish things," he sniffed, "I think I'll go work on something instead."

"Whatever you say Sherlock. Just don't wear yourself out, we wouldn't want your fever to come back." Sherlock grunted and went to sit on his chair. Then he realized that his laptop was all the way in his room. Spotting Arianna's he picked it up and opened the lid. It needed a password. He pressed his fingers together in front of his mouth. This shouldn't bee too hard.

While John and Arianna were cutting the shapes out of the flattened cookie dough, they heard a loud sound of aggravation from the living room.

"Everything alright in there?" Arianna called. Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh of defeat,

"What's the password for your computer?"

"Why don't you use your own?"

"It's all the way upstairs," Sherlock huffed.

She laughed, "So instead of working, you've been trying to figure out my password this entire time?"

"I don't understand! I guessed Johns in less than ten minutes. I've tried everything I could think of. Birth dates, parents names, student ID numbers, but nothing worked!"

"That's because adults use normal things like dates and pet names or whatever. With teenage girls, it can be anything from 'otters are cute' to 'I love Tom Hiddleston.' How do you know all those things about me anyway?"

Sherlock typed in both of the things that she said, with no result.

"Naturally I did some research on you before you came here. Now just tell me what it is."

"Okay, just for today. I'm changing it tomorrow."

"That's fine, just tell me," Sherlock said, growing impatient.

"It's 'get the fuck off of my computer Sherlock,' spaces between the words, no capitals except for on Sherlock."

It was silent for a few seconds. Then John burst into laughter.

"Are you serious?"

"Yep," she smirked.

"It worked…" Sherlock muttered.

"Well of course it worked, it's the password. Now, you better not go snooping through my stuff. Just do your work and get off when you're done."

Sherlock didn't respond. She figured he was sulking. John kept snickering.

"You're absolutely brilliant, you know."

Her smirk faded, she stared at John for a few moments.

"Thank you…" she said quietly.

"Surely you knew that?"

"Uhm, I'd be a lot more likely to describe myself as perhaps smarter than average, and quite a bit eccentric, but not really brilliant…" She'd never been good at taking compliments. She didn't believe them nearly ninety-five percent of the time.

John patter her head like she was a small child,

"Well you are." Arianna smiled at him.

"I don't know why you're being so sentimental, I tell you that you're brilliant all the time," Sherlock huffed from his seat.

"What?! No you don't!" Arianna exclaimed, "Either come in the kitchen to talk to us or stay over there and butt out!" Sherlock grumbled angrily to himself.

"You know," John said quietly, "he may not _say_ to you that you're brilliant, but he may think he's telling you with his actions. He doesn't really communicate like we do. And it's definitely quite an oddity that he doesn't call you an idiot at least twenty times a week."

Arianna quietly pondered this while she worked. She looked over when John gave an exasperated sigh. He was struggling with taking the cut pieces of cookie dough off of the wax paper, they kept sticking and ripping apart.

"Uh… John…"

"I know! They keep sticking. I don't know why. Yours are turning out so nicely."

She giggled, "It's because you didn't put flour underneath. The flour keeps it from sticking to the paper, and it also keeps it from sticking to your hands if you coat your hands with it."

"Oh."

Arianna rolled up Johns dough and handed it to him, putting a layer of flour on the paper for him. Then helped him put flour on his hands. It was like teaching a five year old. Even more so when he started to grin mischievously, then brought his hands up to his face and blew. A giant cloud of flour enveloped her and when it diminished her face was white. She gaped at him. John snickered like a child. In retaliation, Arianna took a handful of flour and smacked it, not hard, onto his face. Next thing they knew, they were in an all out flour battle.

Shrieks and laughing rung through the house. Sherlock stood up and went into the kitchen. Arianna's hair was a mess of tangles and flour, one of Johns sleeves had rolled back down. Both were covered in flour. They looked at them like children who knew they were about to be scolded.

"Could you please keep it down? I'm trying to concentrate."

"Are you sure you don't want to join us Sherlock? We're having lots of fun," Arianna smiled eagerly at him.

"It hardly looks fun. It looks just like a scene from those idiotic and predictable romance films that John and his girlfriends always make me watch. Like you took the whole housewife role too seriously. You may as well just get married, the way you're behaving." He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"I didn't make you do anything, you just felt the need tag along on half of my dates," John said. He looked bothered. Arianna wasn't going to have that. Putting her hands on her hips she said,

"You're one to talk. You sleep in the same bed as me every night, and not even on the other side of it. You just insert yourself completely into my space. Not to mention you've been having dreams about me, and that you've seen me naked twice. Plus you keep asking me about kissing, which is pretty suspicious if you think about it. So I'd appreciate it if you didn't give John any trouble just because we were having a bit of friendly fun."

"Sherlock had a dream about you?" John asked.

"Yeah, I woke up last night because he was calling my name. Turned out he was dreaming. And when I woke him up he was boiling hot and very flustered."

John looked at them for a moment. No… it couldn't be that… He looked at Sherlock, who was visibly uncomfortable.

"You don't think that-" Sherlock cut him off,

"I think it'd be best if you kept your ideas to yourself John," he snapped. John's eyes widened. No way.

"Wait, what?" Arianna said, confused.

No, surely it had to have crossed her mind. She couldn't be that clueless. But she was looking back and forward between them, obviously completely in the unawares.

"Don't worry about it," Sherlock said quickly, "John's just having idiotic conclusions."

"Alright…" she said, disappointed.

"Sherlock, I-"

"John, I really have no intention of discussing this. If you need me I'll be in my room." He turned around, his house robe sweeping behind him, and left.

"Did I miss something?" Arianna asked John. John just shook his head.

* * *

Sherlock was working on his own laptop when there was a knock on the door. He didn't respond, just kept working. The door opened,

"Sherlock? I brought you some cookies." He didn't look up. "I thought they might cheer you up."

Refusing to answer he kept his eyes glued to the screen. Arianna sighed,

"I'll just leave them here then." She walked back to the door and was about to close it when Sherlock said angrily,

"What are these?" He had looked down to see cookies, shaped and decorated to look like… a deerstalker hat. She turned around, half closing the door and standing in the hallway.

"I found them on the internet. People really do like that hat apparently. John said you would enjoy them." Her voice echoed perfect innocence, but when he looked at her he could see the mischief in her eyes.

Arianna closed the door just in time to avoid the plate that came flying towards her. She heard it crack against the door, and then shatter on the floor. She made her way back to the living room.

"What happened?" John asked, looking at her tentatively.

"He threw the plate at me," she frowned like a sad puppy.

They were silent for a few seconds, then erupted with laughter that didn't die for at least ten minutes until they were teary eyed and their sides ached.


	17. Broken Toys

_Thanks for the reviews guys! I was really nervous with the last chapter, I was afraid you guys wouldn't like it but apparently I did okay. I'm five times more worried for this chapter though, especially since you all seemed so happy with how well things were going. But you should all know that 221B doesn't go for too long without some disaster. This one is definitely of insane proportions and I apologize before hand for writing a chapter that will not leave you smiling like the rest. :[ I swear there's a reason behind it! I don't just want to add bad stuff. And I can assure you that it will get better! So stick with me please :] Thank you five million times over. _

Arianna felt her breath catch as she stared at the woman's body. It was bruised and broken and ruined. She felt nauseated as Lestrade gave them the story. She had been gang raped, by five people from the looks of it. They had brutally raped her and then killed her.

"I wouldn't have called you in, but we found this." Lestrade lifted the tattered remains of her shirt a bit. On her abdomen, directly under her right breast was a rose brand mark. Arianna had to turn away for a second. She hoped her ending hours would never be such torture. How horrifying must it have been, to be mercilessly raped by multiple men and then scorched with hot metal? And who knows how quickly they killed her? They could have made it slow and agonizing. She shuddered.

From the looks of the scene, she must have walked by the alley way and been grabbed. They then pulled her into the side door of some old abandoned pub and… she tried not to think about it too much. Sherlock, sensing her distress, put his hand on the small of her back, as if to steady her. His touch, though it was a small gesture, made her a great deal calmer. It wasn't a gesture unnoticed by Lestrade, however. He frowned suspiciously and seemed as if he was going to say something, but John gave him a look that suggested against it.

Something on the wall caught Sherlock's eye. He looked at it closer. It looked like ordinary graffiti. But it was a picture of a cat with a broken toy, which was an odd thing for a normal graffiti artist to put. He ran a finger over the paint. It was just barely still wet.

"Sherlock?" Arianna called, "I found something in her pocket." It was a slip of paper. Sherlock took it from her and opened it. Inside was what looked like a children's story, illustrated and everything.

_Once upon a time there was cat. He liked to solve puzzles. But sometimes he solved puzzles that didn't need to be solved, and it made him an enemy. And even though the cat was warned many times to stop snooping around, he didn't stop. He was just too curious. One day he was solving another mystery. There were other cats going around, breaking toys, and the cat swore that he would track them down. Unfortunately, the cat had snooped one too many times, and this made the secret enemy very angry. While the foolish cat was out looking for them, the bad cats came to his house. And when he returned, he found his own toy on the floor, broken beyond repair. From that day on, the cat regretted ever putting his whiskers where they didn't belong. _

It wasn't very well written, he had hoped that this mastermind would be a bit more eloquent. A red rose was painted at the bottom. It was obviously a threat. The toys represented the people who had been killed. His toy must be John. So it was pretty much a warning that they would hurt John unless he stopped pursuing them. He didn't ever put much weight into threats, and there was another large flaw. He rarely left John alone, and now he certainly would have to bring him along whenever he went to investigate.

Arianna leaned against the wall. She wasn't really in the mood to scan the area. She still felt a bit sick. Sherlock had finished reading the paper and was talking quietly with John. When they were finished, Sherlock walked up to her and John went to talk to Lestrade.

"I have an idea of where we need to go," he said.

"Alright, where are we headed?"

"Well, when I said we, I meant John and myself. I think it would be a bad idea for you to come along on an investigation of this type…" He was obviously referring to the fact that she was woman. He was probably was afraid that if they ran into a trap, that they would take advantage of and kill her like they had done to the other woman. She nodded; she had schoolwork to do anyway. "Lestrade will take you home, and John and I will keep you updated."

Lestrade came up to them, "You ready to go?" he asked Arianna.

"I suppose so," she said.

When Lestrade dropped her off he asked if she wanted him to stay just in case she felt unsafe.

"No, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me," she told him.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," she smiled, "Thank you very much."

Lestrade reluctantly left. He was still worried that something may happen to her. He just had a nagging feeling. Sherlock however, seemed to be more worried about John. And Sherlock was the genius, so he shrugged away thoughts of staying outside the door until they arrive and got back into his car.

Arianna walked into the bathroom. She needed a shower. Turning on the water and waiting for it to get warm, she got undressed. When it was warm enough she stepped in, the hot water soothing her nausea a bit. She was rinsing out her hair when she heard a thump outside the bathroom. Then the bathroom door opened. She froze,

"Sherlock?" she called. There was no answer, instead the curtain was ripped back and she found herself being pulled out of the shower by her hair. She struggled, kicking and swinging her fists. Suddenly another pair of hands was on her, helping to drag her out of the bathroom.

"Get off of me!" she shouted. Another pair of hands appeared, assisting the others. She couldn't see anything through her wet hair. All she was aware of was the rough hands, pushing and pulling her through the flat. They stopped for a moment, then the ground flew out from beneath her feet and she landed not too gently on a bed. She shook her hair out of her face and looked at her assailants, freezing with fear. Five men stood at the foot of the bed, they were in Sherlock's room, smiling at her in the most disgusting manner. She felt the panic rise up in her throat as she saw a white cloth in one of the men's hand. Another man had a long metal pole with a flat metal bottom that looked like… a rose. A coarse hand muffled her scream of terror.

* * *

Sherlock searched the room frantically. It didn't make sense! Every clue had pointed to this place! But there was no one there. He searched through the desk and found nothing but irrelevant files.

"Um… Sherlock?" John said, pointing to the ceiling. Written on one of the tiles was,

_Silly cat shouldn't have left his toy at home. _

What? That didn't make any sense. John was right here with him. Then it clicked. The toys weren't all the people who had been murdered, it was the woman specifically. Which meant that his toy that could be broken in the same way was…

"Shit!" he exclaimed. It was a distraction. No wonder the clues were so obvious. How could he have been so _stupid?_ He pulled out his phone, dialing Arianna's number, running back out of the building with John trailing behind him. Her phone went to voice mail. "Fuck!"

John had never heard Sherlock swear like this before. Usually "damn" was the worst it got.

"What's going on?" Sherlock handed him the note. "I thought that the toy represented all of the victims and you. I was wrong. It was the woman. And the toy that supposedly belongs to me is Arianna."

John's eyes widened, "How could you have not seen that? It's clear as day!"

Sherlock ignored him and sprinted in the direction of the flat. He didn't have time to hail a cab. He sped with all his might with only three words going through his mind,

_Broken beyond repair._

* * *

When they reached the flat the door had been broken in. Sherlock dashed up the stairs. The strong smell of roses and… something else reached his nose. Arianna's bed was empty. Then he heard a faint whimper from his bedroom. As John reached the top of the stairs, amazed that he had managed to keep up, Sherlock bounded into his room. There he found Arianna curled in a ball on his bed, wet, bruised, and naked with a white cloth tied around her mouth, covered in… He slammed his fist against the wall. John came in behind him,

"Oh my god," he said, rushing to the side of the bed and untying the gag. Arianna was barely conscious, her breath coming in shallow gasps. He took a blanket from a chair and threw it over her shivering body. Her eyes bolted opened, full of panic.

"Shh, shh, it's only me," John said soothingly, sweeping her damp hair out of her face. She stared for a few moments, as if she didn't recognize him, and then started to sob. John put an arm around her and rocked her like a baby.

"You need to call Lestrade," he told Sherlock, who was pacing the room, nearly tearing his hair out. Sherlock did as he was told. "Okay," John said, turning back to her, "I have to take a look at you, make sure there's nothing life threatening." She nodded eyes wide with anguish that he could barely imagine. He took the blanket off of her and looked over her as well as he could while trying to maintain her modesty. Purple and green splotches covered her torso, even what looked like bite marks. He pressed down on her ribs, making sure that none were broken, trying to ignore the sticky goop that clung to his fingers. She gasped with pain. Luckily nothing was broken. He shook his head, nothing about this situation was lucky. Then he spotted something in the collage of colors. A brand, in the shape of rose, stood out in red, inflamed on her hipbone, right below her navel line. Arianna followed his gaze a brought a hand down to her hip. She gasped with pain as she touched it, and then covered her face with her hands. Speaking for the first time, in a very hoarse voice,

"I'm ruined… I'll be marked forever…" she started to cry again.

John couldn't think of anything to say to console her so he just held onto her until Lestrade arrived with the paramedics. Lestrade let out his own bit of colorful language. The paramedics loaded her into an ambulance allowing Sherlock to ride with her. He had insisted, even though up until then he hadn't gotten anywhere near her. At the hospital they gave her medicine that kept her unconscious most of the time while they performed tests, and gave her medicine to prevent pregnancy. Sherlock sat next to her bed the whole time, clinging to her hand like it was her lifeline.

All of the tests and x-rays turned out fine. She had no internal bleeding or concussions, and John was a doctor who could look after her, so they let her out late that night. Sherlock had to help her up the stairs; her shaky legs barely supported her. When they reached the living room it still smelled strongly of roses. Arianna flinched at the smell.

"Sherlock, there's some air freshener under the sink, can you get that and use it while I help her with her pajamas?" John said. Sherlock nodded. The air freshener worked a little, but the sickening sweet scent of roses still weighed down on them.

Sherlock waited as John helped her. He had been so stupid. How could he let this happen? A battle of self-hatred raged inside of him. He was glad that she was alive, but that of course had been part of the plan. The secret man had left her alive so that she would always be there, a screaming reality that he would have to face every day. He wondered if when she looked at him, there would be a coldness of blame in her eyes. Just like the story said, he would regret it every day. He would never forget what had happened to her when he saw her eyes, so filled with agony now, and he would never forget that it was his fault.

When she was in her pajamas and John had tucked her into bed Arianna looked at them both.

"I don't blame you guys," she said, her voice raspy, "It's not your fault. I should have let Lestrade stay with me when he offered."

Sherlock put his hands in his hair, almost insane in his disbelief. Was she really blaming herself? He tore at his hair and spat out,

"Are you really that much of an idiot? You really think I'm going to allow you to take the blame for this?" He opened his mouth to speak again, but he just couldn't find any words. He sighed, trying to calm down, "You need to sleep. You don't have the energy for this."

"Will you sleep with me?" Arianna said pitifully.

"Of course," Sherlock replied, "I always do."

"No, I mean both of you," she looked at John, "I would feel safer if we were all together."

"Alright," John sighed, "Let me go change."

When Sherlock and John were in their pajamas they got into bed with her, John on one side and Sherlock on the other. They had already been short on space when it was just her and Sherlock, and now with John they had no choice but to be pressed close together. Arianna curled up against John's chest with Sherlock resting is forehead on her shoulder from behind. She held John's hands as Sherlock wrapped an arm around her. She felt warm and protected. And, absolutely exhausted, she fell asleep almost immediately.


	18. Sleepover at Mycroft's

_Wooooo! It's really long chapter time! Hope you like it! I spent a lot of time on it! Thank you again for your amazing and helpful reviews 3_

John woke up to a quiet moaning. Letting his eyes adjust he found that the source of the noise was Arianna. Her face was scrunched in pain and fear.

"No… stop…" she mumbled. She was clinging to John's shirt with a vice grip. He tapped her shoulder,

"Arianna, wake up," when she didn't wake up he shook her gently. She woke with a start, gasping with terror. Tears collected in her eyes.

"It's okay, it was just a dream," John said, stroking her hair. She whimpered and buried her face into his chest. Sherlock stirred awake, and hearing Arianna's crying he cringed. John could see the self-loathing in his eyes. He tried to comfort him as best as he could with just his gaze, but Sherlock had stopped paying attention to him. He was trying to find a way to comfort her, but with her hands and face stuck to John there wasn't much he could do. He settled for nuzzling into her hair and kissing her once on the shoulder.

Arianna stopped crying for a moment, "I'm sorry," she sniffed, "I don't want you guys to lose sleep over me…"

"I hardly slept before you came along anyway," Sherlock murmured. It was strange how much this girl had changed his life completely, turned it entirely upside down. Before John came along he never guessed that he would ever really care for anyone. And even when John was here, he had never expected there to be another, let alone a girl. He remembered the night they had gotten the files, and how sure he had been that she would be insignificant. How wrong he had been.

It had taken every single ounce of restraint he had not to rush out of the flat and track down the sick bastards who did this when they had gotten home that night. He imagined his hands around their throats, his fists beating them senseless, and then waking them up so he could continue. The only thing that stopped him was her pleading eyes that begged him to stay. As fragile as she looked, there was no way he could leave her.

Arianna shifted and let out a small gasp of pain. Sherlock felt the same flash of anger as before go through him. Whoever this was had made a terrible mistake. He wouldn't rest until he had killed every single man who had left a bruise on her skin.

"I swear…" he whispered, "I will find them, and I will make them wish that they had never laid a hand on you."

Arianna stiffened, "No," she said, wriggling free of her enclosure and turning over, "You can't. I don't want them to hurt you." Her eyes were wide with worry.

"Such little faith you have in me," Sherlock said, his eyes showing that he had no intention of letting them get away without payback. This worried her. This man had always been one step ahead of them, how would Sherlock manage to get to them without getting killed by a sniper like that woman?

"It's not that I don't believe in you… I just…" She closed her eyes. She could still feel the rough hands, pulling at her and pinching her, prodding at her and groping her. In her eyes they weren't just men, they were the monsters that would forever be in her nightmares, they were invincible. She couldn't imagine Sherlock facing them by himself. She also couldn't bear the idea of him leaving her again, especially since…

"Sherlock… as they were leaving… they said that they would come back for me." She could hear their voices still, gloating and vile. She felt Sherlock's muscles tighten. She knew that this would make him less eager to leave her, which made her feel a lot better.

Sherlock didn't know what to say. This brilliant, idiotic girl was trying to protect him. Why did she have to be so damn selfless? Those men would pay for this, and he would figure out a way how. He would just have to find a way to keep her safe while he was out.

"I'll find someone to watch you," he said obstinately. She could see in his eyes that he wasn't going to change his mind.

"Fine… Just be careful…" She whispered. She leaned in and kissed near his collarbone, his face being too far above hers to reach. Sherlock had to hold back a shudder as her touch sent an unfamiliar shiver down his spine. He looked at John, hoping that he couldn't see the effect it had on him. John just stared back, showing no signs of noticing.

Arianna would never forgive herself if Sherlock and John didn't come back safe. She thought about how much more complicated she probably made their life. Especially now that she was such a pitiful broken thing that would probably never be able to sleep alone, or even be alone for that matter. They would have to devote their time to keeping an eye on her, and trying to make her feel better. She was so sore that she probably wouldn't be able to help John with the groceries or cook their meals for a while. She was nothing but an extra thing to worry about now. It might not have bothered her as much if she was in a better frame of mind. But she was exhausted and traumatized, so she started to cry again.

"I'm sorry I'm so much of a burden now," she sniffed.

Sherlock's patience snapped,

"Your selfless stupidity is absolutely unbearable." He said. Arianna's breathing stopped.

"What Sherlock meant to say, was that you are not a burden. You've always been a great help, and now you just need a break. We are more than glad to take care of you and wouldn't think twice about it. You need to stop worrying about us and think more about yourself," John said quickly, surprised at Sherlock's harsh remark.

Arianna didn't want to argue with him. But it just wasn't in her nature to think more about herself than others. She had always been a giver. She was too busy worrying about everyone else's problems to think of her own. She cared much more about John and Sherlock than she did herself.

"Sorry…" she muttered. Sherlock rolled his eyes, apologizing wasn't really changing anything.

"We will keep you safe, don't doubt it. And I know just the man for the job." Sherlock smiled.

* * *

"Really Sherlock, just because we're related doesn't mean you can use me as a baby sitter," Mycroft said into his phone.

"It's just for a day or two. I can't afford to leave her alone. But I also can't let these men go unpunished. Besides, you and she have been emailing so you must not dislike her all that much." Sherlock replied.

"That's strictly business." But Sherlock was right, the girl was witty and very amiable. At least that's how she seemed over email.

"Please Mycroft," Sherlock pleaded. He wasn't one for begging and Mycroft knew it.

"Fine," he sighed, "But don't expect me do favors such as this often."

* * *

Arianna looked around the very ornate living room. It was filled with old sculptures and shelves with thousands of books. It had been three days since had been broken. That's what she referred to it as. She couldn't say the word in her head. She sat down on the chair in front of the fireplace as Sherlock and Mycroft exchanged short greetings. They were very formal, not at all brotherly. The only sign that they were brothers was when they starting having little sibling jabs at each other, going back and forward with their underhanded insults and witty banter. She stood up to examine the books on the shelves. Some were very old and looked as if they hadn't been touched in years.

"Well Arianna, I think I should be off now," Sherlock said. She turned around from the bookshelf and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"Come back safe," she said, squeezing so hard Sherlock couldn't breathe. He put his arms around her and put his lips to the top of her head.

Mycroft watched them. It looked like this girl had brought Sherlock's walls down. He cared enough about her to put their differences aside and ask him to watch her. And now he was _hugging_ her. The Holmes' didn't _hug_. He didn't know quite how he felt about this development.

Arianna let go and gave Sherlock a nervous smile. He returned it and went to leave,

"Try to be hospitable Mycroft," he said as he walked out.

"I'm pretty sure you were always the one who had problems with people Sherlock, not me." Mycroft said smiling. Sherlock didn't respond, just walked out of the door.

Mycroft turned to Arianna,

"Well then, what is it you do to entertain yourself? I could have something brought for you if you require anything."

"No, I have homework to do. That should keep me busy enough."

This relieved Mycroft, he was worried that he would have to keep her busy himself.

"Alright, if you need me I'll be-"

"Um, actually, could you maybe stay in the living room? I won't bother you. I'd just rather not be alone," Arianna said shyly.

Mycroft looked at her for a few seconds. He had half a mind to say no. But something about her eyes awakened some unexpected instinct to protect her. Something about her made him want to care for her. Just slightly. No wonder Sherlock's heart had opened; he had been subjected to this… witchcraft for over a month. So he begrudgingly agreed and sat in the living room with Arianna as she worked.

After a few hours he asked,

"So, how has my brother been?"

Arianna looked up.

"No big changes I think."

"Perhaps we have different idea of what is important… Just think of everything that's happened lately."  
He was curious as to what other changes this girl had brought about. He was surprised that she didn't see it herself.

"Well, since I last talked to you… I guess something different about him is that he's been trying to understand people's emotions more. He's also been very curious on different displays of affection. Wanting to know why people hug or kiss. Asking about what different sorts mean. He actually ended up kissing John, full on the mouth, because he kind of misunderstood something I said about how friends kissed sometimes. Him and John both know something that I don't," she frowned sulkily, "One night I woke up because Sherlock was having a nightmare and for some reason he was calling my name. And when I woke up, he was as hot as fire and jumpy as hell. He said he didn't really remember what the dream was about, but when I talked to John about it, it looked as if John had a theory. Sherlock cut him off though and told him to keep quiet which makes me think that he actually does remember and that John had guessed it. John wouldn't tell me though. That's pretty much it, everything else you probably saw with your spy cameras or whatever. Nothing very important, sorry."

Mycroft smirked. She had no idea how much this actually told him. Surely she must have realized herself that it was no nightmare that Sherlock was having.

"You don't think that perhaps his dream was of the… ah… sexual nature?" He asked. Her look of confusion and surprise told him that he had guessed no such thing.

"B-but," she stuttered, "its Sherlock. He doesn't think about stuff like that."

"Yes, Sherlock also doesn't hug people. But you seem to have changed that as well."

Arianna's eyes widened,

"So you're saying… that Sherlock… was having … a sex dream… about me?"

"That would be my deduction, yes."

She turned a bit red. Normally this would have pleased her to no end. But after the… incident, the idea of sex was horrifying to her. She was without a doubt incredibly attracted to Sherlock, but she couldn't imagine ever having sex. She put her face in her hands. How inconvenient. It seemed that as Sherlock's sexual impulses had started surface, hers were completely extinguished. Although, nothing would have probably happened anyway, she was only seventeen after all. And people couldn't really control their dreams; she didn't know that he actually thought of her in that way.

"Are you planning on doing anything about it?" Mycroft asked.

"Like what?" Arianna spluttered, "I couldn't. Its illegal. And after the thing… I don't think I could ever do anything like that…"

Mycroft nodded. It was a shame. Everything always had to be complicated for Sherlock. The Irene Adler woman had been a traitor to him, and then executed. Now it looked as if he was developing feelings for this girl that seemed more than just an emotional tie. But she was emotional scarred and underage. But this was also better. Mycroft knew well enough that love was an incredible disadvantage. It had been proven to him once and the ring on his finger reminded him every single day. He absent-mindedly spun it with his thumb. Arianna's eyes flashed down to it.

"You were married?" She asked. If Mycroft was like Sherlock, this was a big surprise.

"Yes." He said shortly. He had been weak once. Under the impression that love was a joyful thing, from which only good things could come. Then she died. And he realized how wrong he had been.

"I'm sorry," she frowned.

Mycroft didn't acknowledge her apology. Instead he looked at his watch and said,

"Its late, shouldn't you sleep? I prepared a room for you." That's what ordinary people did right? Sleep?

"No… I wouldn't be able to. I can't sleep alone…" she said quietly, "I have nightmares. Sherlock or John has to stay with me so that they can wake me up."

"Why don't you sleep on the couch then? I can sit here and wake you up if I need to."

Arianna was a bit reluctant, but she didn't think it was necessary to explain that she also liked being able to feel Sherlock or John next to her while she slept, the warmth comforted her. So she agreed and Mycroft went to go get her a blanket and a pillow.

It took her a while to fall asleep, but eventually the flickering fire made her doze off. Mycroft sighed in relief. Something about this girl was unsettling. It was most likely the way she had the ability to make him _want_ to do things for her. It was bizarre. He never wanted to do anything for anyone but himself. He did do things for others, but he never actually _wanted_ to. It would be a great relief when Sherlock came to get her.

Sherlock. He smirked. His clueless virgin brother was apparently finally becoming a man, after years of having a completely prepubescent mind frame. He wondered how it would work though. Would the beginnings of his sexual impulses be like that of a teenager? That would be quite a sight to see. He chuckled to himself and took out his phone.

_Interesting dreams you're having.-MH_

He pressed send. A few seconds later it buzzed.

_I suppose you would consider my dreams interesting, considering that all of yours are about cake. –SH_

He chuckled again. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Mycroft woke up with a start, having dozed off in his chair. Arianna was fidgeting, and making very odd sounds. When she said he had nightmares, he assumed that if she made noise it would be noises of protest. These noises were moans that sounded like a little bit more than just agony. There was something primitive in her soft cries that were rough and almost erotic. He stood up, not wanting to hear anymore. When he walked over to her he saw that her cheeks were flushed. He shook her, not too gently.

Arianna's eyes flew open and she had to hold back a scream. The violent way she was being shaken made her dream seem real as she woke up. She was so used to John or Sherlock gently waking her from her nightmares, and now she was being shaken ungently by unfamiliar hands in a place that she didn't recognize at first. Luckily se recognized Mycroft in time so that she didn't shriek in terror. After she calmed down a bit she let out a gust of air,

"Sorry," she said, sitting up and drawing her knees up to her chest. Something about the determination in her eyes to prove that she wasn't weak reminded him of Sherlock, when they were children. He remembered when Sherlock would have nightmares, he would crawl into Mycroft's bed with his teddy bear and Mycroft would pretend to sleep. Sherlock would always wake before him and then go back to his own bed, thinking that Mycroft had no idea. Mycroft let him believe this, not wanting to embarrass him, and because he knew that if he said something about it, Sherlock wouldn't come back when he had a nightmare. And then he would be all alone and scared in his own bed and get no sleep.

"It's alright. I understand."

Arianna smiled at him and he sighed. This girl definitely was something else. She had somehow managed to get through the barriers of the Holmes boys. Mycroft would definitely ask for more personal details about Sherlock now.

He wanted to see how things developed.

* * *

Mycroft handed Sherlock Arianna's bags.

"Thank you again Mycroft," Sherlock said curtly. But Mycroft could see in his eyes that he was very grateful.

"She certainly is a fascinating girl," Mycroft stated, "She reminds me of you in some ways." He sighed. "I wanted to ask you about something… The noises she makes, during her nightmares, weren't really what I expected. I didn't think they would be so sexual. It almost sounds as if she enjoys it slightly."

Sherlock nodded, "It makes sense. There are men who sometimes get raped by other men, and are not only traumatized because of that, but because their body responded in a way that led them to believe that they were gay. Sometimes that's the part that hurt victims the most, the worry that they didn't only feel pain. I'm not sure that in Arianna's dreams she only remembers the torture, but I assure you that she does not enjoy it. Every fiber of her being hates the fact that her body betrayed her in that way."

Mycroft was surprised. It seemed that Sherlock was finally reaching an understanding of, and even feeling himself, deeper emotions than Mycroft ever thought him capable of. Just as before, he didn't know whether or not this was good.  
It seemed that this girl would definitely be the making of him.


	19. The Trap

Arianna stood in the middle of the shopping center. It was in the evening and customers were doing their last minute shopping. People swarmed around her, carrying shopping bags or pushing strollers. Couples walked arm in arm and teenagers sat in the food court, eating, gossiping, and flirting. It felt strange not being part of one of those groups like she had been in America. She shook her head as she started to reminisce. She needed to focus.

According to Sherlock, this was where the men stood waiting for women to follow. They would pick out a woman who was alone and follow her around until she went out into the parking lot. Sherlock had managed to get in the way of their plans every time, without them realizing that it was him. They were desperate now, and that's why Arianna was here. She was bait. Sherlock wasn't very eager to approve of this plan, but he knew that it would be the easiest way. Mycroft would be watching through the security cameras to make sure nothing went wrong. They gave her a few days more days to recollect a little more of her sense of normalcy before they enacted the plan.

They would see her and follow her out into the parking structure, where Sherlock would be waiting. She just had to make sure that they wouldn't manage to corner her before she got to where he was. She hadn't quite figured out how to do that yet. As she went over a series of plans she spotted one out of the corner of her eye. Her insides froze. She had no doubt. It was one of the faces that haunted her nightmares every night. He was the biter. She subconsciously touched her lower abdomen where the rose was. It was a mark that she would have on her forever.

She had to walk closer to him so that he would see her. But she couldn't look like she had recognized him. Sherlock was certain that they would follow her, eager to jump on the chance to hurt him again. Eager to satisfy their carnal desires. Arianna shivered.

She straightened her back and made sure not to seem afraid. She walked right through his line of vision and she felt his eyes lock onto her. Then she stopped at a booth selling hot pretzels. It didn't take long for her to see the others. The biter must have alerted them. They stood spread out all around the food court, making a large circle. She could feel them watching her. She took a deep breath, determined to stay calm. Then she had an idea. She spotted a boy, leaning against the large fountain in the middle of the plaza alone. She walked up to him confidently.

When she reached him she smiled like she had known him for years and said cheerfully,

"Hi! I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

The boy ran his eyes up and down over her, "Yeah, I suppose."

Without changing her tone she said,

"I'm being followed by multiple men at the moment, and I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for a little bit so that they'll leave me alone until I get to my car in the parking lot. Don't look around; it'll only make them suspicious." Her smile stayed wide, so that the men wouldn't realize she was on to them.

"Uh… Shouldn't we call the police or something?" he asked, seeming as though he had a very hard time believing this.

"That's where the parking lot comes in, I've got people waiting."

"You're having them follow you on purpose?" he asked incredulously.

"Let's just say I've had a previous encounter with them that I would like to… remind them of."

The boy shook his head unbelievingly, "This is like some sort of weird movie. Are you a rogue spy or something? A human weapon of seduction and ass kicking? Like black widow?" His eyes lit up.

"You read way too many comic books," Arianna rolled her eyes. Though her life did quite seem like a spy movie at times. "I promise nothing will happen to you, can you just do this for me?"

The boy sighed reluctantly, "I suppose. But since I'm pretending to be your boyfriend, does that mean I get a kiss?" He grinned.

Arianna smiled, "Of course." There was a definite sarcasm in her tone and eyes that said she had no interest in doing so. But she had to, to keep him cooperative, so she leaned in to give him a peck on the lips. He leaned in as well, making the kiss much deeper than she had planned. She pulled back,

"Let's not push it," she said, forcing a smile. She wished she had picked someone else, it seemed as if he was really going to take advantage of this. She took his hand and they walked to one of the tables, within ten feet of one of the men, and sat down. Then said loudly enough for him to hear,

"Yeah I just need you to walk to me with the elevator; I can handle myself from there. My car is on top of the structure and there's like no one there so there shouldn't be any problems." She wanted to sound like a scared, but dumb teenage girl. She mentally rolled her eyes at this imaginary girl. Who would think that empty parking lot would mean safer? But it was part of the cover story so she just continued with the poor reasoning.

"Aww, I was hoping I would go home with you," the boy said, smirking. It took all of her self-control to not get up and walk away from this idiot.

"Sorry, but no," she said, struggling to keep cheerful. She looked at her watch, two more minutes until she needed to head for the garage. Hopefully it would go by quickly and this overconfident imbecile wouldn't mess anything up. Her phone vibrated,

_Good idea. I'm afraid you forgot about the idiocy of teenage boys though.- MH_

_Save your remarks for later Mycroft, we've got a mission. _

She looked up, it was go time.

"Let's go." They got up and Arianna took his hand again. When they walked out the doors it was dark outside and the ground was wet from when it had rained earlier. She felt herself getting nervous as they got closer and closer. She didn't know if she was ready to confront these men yet. But she knew that Sherlock wouldn't be able to hold back for more than a week. Every time she looked into his eyes she could see him planning what he was going to do to them. She didn't know exactly how she knew, but she had been able to read him better and better lately. She hoped that he and John would be able to handle the men by themselves. But from what she had heard from Sherlock's stories, they had both gotten themselves out of many situations where they were outnumbered.

When they got to the elevator in the parking garage she gave him a hug.

"Thank you." Even though he had been a serious pain in the arse, she was grateful. He had helped her after all, even if he was fucking annoying as hell. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and whispered, "You should probably get out of here. It'll start being a bit chaotic once I get to the top." Her hands had started shaking.

"You sure I couldn't give you a hand up there?"

"Nah, you'd probably just get in the way," the elevator doors opened behind her, she winked and walked into it.

"You think I'll ever see you again?" he said as she pushed the button for the top floor.

"Maybe, if you're lucky," she said. The elevator doors closed. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her phone buzzed,

_They're on their way in the opposite elevator –MH_

Arianna squared her shoulders and clenched her fists as the elevator reached the top floor.

* * *

Sherlock's phone went off.

_They're coming up the South Eastern elevator. Arianna is in the North Eastern. -MH_

Sherlock gave John the signal from across the lot. John signed back. They were ready.

Sherlock had been waiting for this for weeks. And he would relish the feeling of them breaking under his fists. He took off his scarf and jacket.

He was more than ready.

* * *

The elevator door opened. Arianna tried not to look as if she knew something was up. She just walked out and went towards "her" car. She was shaking so much it was as if her breath was vibrating. Then she heard the other elevator arrive. Her breathing stopped all together. Her heart raced, and she had to struggle to keep a normal pace instead of sprinting away to Sherlock and hiding behind him where she would always be safe. She could hear them approaching, murmuring excitedly under their breath, ecstatic that she had been stupid enough to stumble into their trap. She wasn't supposed to look at them, but she couldn't help it. She turned around and saw them all, with their sickening grins and eyes that were mentally undressing her already. Her insides turned to stone. Knowing that they had seen her look, she had to look surprised, like she hadn't expected them to be there. She gasped and stumbled a bit. That's when they threw aside all attempts at being sneaky.

Speeding up their pace they drove her into a corner. That's another thing she wasn't supposed to let happen. Though they knew that Sherlock and John would definitely be able to take care of them before anything happened to her, they had all agreed that it would be best to avoid such a situation. But she couldn't function. The terror had turned her legs to lead and her mind to pudding. Suddenly this wasn't a trap for them anymore; it was a trap for her. She forgot about Sherlock and John and could only think about the five men that stood in front of her, jeering at and taunting her. She started to hyperventilate. There was nothing she could do. They were the men she had hoped she would never see again, but saw every night in her nightmares, and here they were. Her mind shut down and she couldn't think. She didn't know if she was going to scream or throw up. She didn't do either.

Instead, she fainted.

* * *

Sherlock and John stood, waiting for her signal. But Sherlock was slowly realizing that Arianna's mind wasn't on the plan anymore. For her this was real. She had the eyes of a trapped animal, wild and scared. And then she suddenly crumpled to the floor. Sherlock threw aside the plan and rushed out of hiding. Seeing him, John came out as well. Before the men knew what was happening Sherlock had bashed two in the head, rendering them unconscious. The others tried to defend themselves, but Sherlock was too quick. With John's help they easily took them out, the men being used to fighting much weaker women, not at all trained in combat like John and Sherlock.

After making sure they were all knocked out, Sherlock rushed to kneel next to Arianna while John tied the men up. She was unconscious, but still breathing. He picked her up off of the cold ground and carried her to Mycroft's car. Mycroft was there in a few minutes.

"Take her home, I need to take these men to the police. I should be there in a few hours," Sherlock said.

Mycroft nodded, he knew that the police station wouldn't be their only stop. He just hoped that he didn't kill them, which would be a lot harder to cover up than a few cracked skulls and many, many bruises.

"Try not to get too carried away." He said.

"No promises."

* * *

Arianna blinked awake. Her head was pounding. She sat up suddenly,

"Sherlock?" she called.

Mycroft stepped out of the kitchen, a cup of tea in his hand.

"He's taking your attackers… to the police," he said.

"How long has it been?"

"About three and a half hours."

Arianna was surprised that Mycroft had been willing to stay.

"Well thank you for staying with me for such a long time."

"Of course."

Although Mycroft and Sherlock both shared a quality of being distant and unattached, there was something different about Mycroft. With Sherlock, it was as if he was a child who just didn't understand how to really be friendly. But Mycroft however, seemed as if he were perfectly capable of doing so, just chose not to. This made him that much more of an icy character.

Arianna's head turned quickly as she heard the door open. She got up and rushed to the top of the stairs. John and Sherlock were walking in, Sherlock looking far too cheerful. He skipped up the stairs and kissed her on the cheek, before passing her and coming to Mycroft.

"Don't even think about hugging me," Mycroft said, wearing his usual smirk. Sherlock ignored him.

"Thank you for staying this long, it was more than I expected. And I am grateful," Sherlock sounded so formal. Arianna had expected him to come with some sort of retort.

Mycroft nodded, it seemed as if they were starting to grow past their childish fights.

"It's late, I think I'll be off," he started towards the door. As he got to the top of the stairs he said, "_Sweet dreams_," grinning like the Cheshire cat. Apparently not.

Sherlock turned red and before he could say anything Mycroft was going down stairs.

He ran after him, yelling as Mycroft walked outside, "Of course you'd know _all _about sweets!"

Yeah, definitely not.


	20. Heat

When Sherlock came back into the living room Arianna decided it was best not to bring up the dream,

"Some one seems to be in a good mood," she smiled. He grinned back like a child, all thoughts of the dream vanishing.

"Of course! Justice has been served! I always loved a good beating." He clapped his hands together.

"That's incredibly abnormal but alright, whatever makes you happy," Arianna said. She liked that he was happy again. It was much better than his bloodthirsty rage and self-hatred that he had been sporting for the last few days.

"I'd think you'd have realized and gotten used to my abnormalities by now," Sherlock said.

"I don't think anyone could ever get used to it," she laughed, "I can't imagine a time when you don't surprise me anymore."

"That'll be the day," John said smiling. A bit of the weight on Arianna's shoulders lifted as they stood there smiling. She wasn't anywhere near being healed, but she could see the beginnings of becoming whole on the horizon. And she knew that Sherlock and John would help her get there.

* * *

Sherlock and Arianna lay in bed. John didn't sleep with them, because he had work in the morning and Arianna had insisted that he sleep in his own bed where she wouldn't wake him up. Sherlock was studying her hand. He did this a lot, she never really got why. His eyes scanned her hands and his fingers traced all the lines and crevices between her fingers. Before it had sent shivers down her spine, as if he had somehow managed to convey some sexual tension through just their fingers. It had been maddeningly arousing before, but now she just watched him silently. She wondered what on Earth was so fascinating about her hands to him. Surely he had memorized every feature by now. There couldn't possibly be something new to look at every single time he picked up her hand.

Sherlock did this mostly when he was thinking. It cleared his mind better to have something in front of him that he knew backwards and forwards and wouldn't distract him from his thoughts. Sometimes he did it to learn more about her. In the beginning he deduced her habits and history. Since he had found everything about her past from her hands that he could, he started using them to see how she was feeling, how her day had been going. Her hands had been cold and tense these last few days, which made sense after the incident. Not to mention they were covered in bruises. They felt better now though. Maybe she was starting to forget it all now that he had taken care of the men.

"You're feeling better," he stated, "I'm glad to know that you are getting over your traumatizing event."

Arianna stared at him, "What makes you think I'm getting over it?" she still felt as scarred as before, she wasn't any less terrified of sex, and she was certain she would still be having nightmares for quite a while.

"Well, your mood and emotional status are significantly different than what they've been for the last few days."

Arianna was silent for a few moments and then laughed, "You idiot. It's because of you. I've been very worried about how upset you've been lately. The fact that you've only had two emotions over the last two days, Self-hatred and thirst for revenge, kind of scared me. I'm happier now because you're back to your normal self and I can stop worrying. And I suppose I'm also a little less scared now that my tormentors are in jail and can't come back to get me like they promised. But it's mostly you. Otherwise, my status is about the same."

"Oh." He had stopped being surprised at her refusal to worry about everyone but herself. Not that it bothered him any less. But that wasn't what bothered him now. "I don't understand. You have nothing to worry about anymore. Why are you not better?"

"Sherlock, it doesn't work like that. I can't just get better now that they've been locked up. It's hard to explain… But I don't know how long it will take until I can qualify as better."

"Oh." He guessed it was just one of those things he would never understand. Arianna yawned and closed her hand around his, making him stop looking it.

"Don't worry about it. I'll be fine eventually." She smiled. Sherlock smiled uneasily back at her. She let go of his hand and snuggled up against him. He wrapped an arm around her and it wasn't long before they were both asleep.

* * *

Arianna woke up with a start. It was _hot_. Sherlock was still up against her, and he was on fire. It was much too warm for her. She tried to shift away. A low moan rumbled in his chest and throat and her breath caught. Oh no, not again. Not with him so close to her. Then she felt something pressing up against her lower abdomen.

Oh god.

She wrenched herself from his grasp, pushing him away and retreating to the wall. Sherlock's eyes flew open as he fell off of the bed. There was a thud as he hit the ground. He swore.

"Sorry!" Arianna squeaked. Sherlock sat up, dazed. He blinked into awareness and stiffened as he saw her wide eyes and how she was pressed against the wall. Then he froze as he noticed that he was also stiff in another sense. Shit. What was he supposed to do now? This had never happened to him before. He snapped his legs together. He couldn't get back in bed. Arianna would surely notice.

"I'd suggest taking a cold shower," she said awkwardly. Shit. She had already noticed.

"Uh, Yes, I'll do that." He got up clumsily and walked to the bathroom with his legs clenched together.

Arianna sighed in relief as he left and laughed nervously. Her face was heated as she blushed. She couldn't believe that had just happened. She could still feel his member against her stomach, hot and pulsing through his pants. She shuddered. Then she put her face in her hands. This shouldn't disgust her as much as it did. Wouldn't it make more sense to be turned on? It used to send tingles down her body when he just touched her back. Her sexuality had been robbed from her. She took a deep breath. Surely it would come back with time. She just needed to wait. She had to keep positive.

Sherlock stood in the cold water, his body wracked with shivers. Damn this girl. She was like a demon sent to become his undoing. This dream was much more vivid than the last. Her lips and her body on his had been so soft. He groaned. He shouldn't be thinking about this, it wasn't going to help his problem, which still hadn't died down yet. There was no way she didn't know it wasn't a nightmare now. He didn't know how he would be able to face her again. He wished he could just stay in the shower forever.

Ten minutes later when he was sure he had been completely unhardened and was going to stay that way, Sherlock turned the water off. According to the clock it was still only four in the morning. He sighed. He would have to face her eventually. He may as well do it now when John wasn't there to laugh at him. He dressed and went back to the living room, where Arianna was lying, staring at the ceiling.

"Better?" she said without looking at him. Sherlock got into bed, keeping enough space between them so that he couldn't feel the warmth of her skin.

"Yes." It was silent for about a minute. "I suppose you know now," Sherlock said quietly.

"Mycroft told me already." Of course he had. "It's okay though. I know you can't control what you dream. I've had plenty of dreams where I do things I would never do in real life. It's just how dreams are sometimes. I just wasn't expecting it and overreacted a bit. I didn't mean to push you off of the bed."

Sherlock thought about this. He had been so confused lately, wondering if these dreams meant that he had feelings for Arianna. But she was right, he couldn't control his dreams. Maybe his brain was just playing tricks on him. But then why did he want to know if her lips were really that soft, her taste really that sweet? If it was only a movie of sorts that was played while he slept, why did it still affect him while he was awake?

"It's alright," he said quietly. He didn't expect her to be so calm. "You aren't… disgusted…?"

"Well… I'm not disgusted at you. I just think anything of that nature a bit gross now. Hopefully it will fade soon. I think that had it been under another circumstance I'd probably be flattered."

"Really?"

Arianna took his hand and smiled reassuringly, "Really. After all the crazy things that I've dealt with, you seriously think something as actually relatively normal as this will chase me away?"

Sherlock was relieved. She was right of course. She had always reacted much more calmly to finding body parts in the fridge than John or Mrs. Hudson ever had. For him these things weren't normal, but perhaps for other people it was.

Arianna watched him start to play with her fingers. It was strange how things were turning out. She had finally come to terms with the fact that she had romantic feelings for Sherlock, but didn't want him sexually anymore. And now Sherlock seemed to be becoming physically aware of her, but had no romantic thoughts. At least that's what she thought.

John, of course, knew exactly what was going on. But decided it would be best for them to find out themselves.


	21. The Girl and The Woman

_Oh snap! 2 chapters in one day! guess who has no life? :D Hope you guys like it!_

At the café sat a Woman, sipping tea, blood red lipstick stained the cup. Her head raised as John Watson left his flat, on his way to work. The Woman smiled as he didn't lock the door behind him, and left without seeing her. As the cab drove off she stood, drawing her coat around her, and walked up to the door. She closed the door behind her quietly. The Woman's heels clicked against the stairs as she went up. Her smile faded when she reached the top, and saw a bed that certainly hadn't been there before. The Woman frowned as she recognized the top of Sherlock's head, next to a girl whom she certainly did not recognize. She should have done some checking up on him before she came. But The Woman would never have expected such a change. She came closer, looking at them from above. The girl was no more than eighteen years old, yet they lay entwined like they'd been in love for years.

The Woman sat down in a chair and waited for when they would wake up.

* * *

Arianna stirred awake. She could tell by the light coming from the window that John would have left by now. Then she heard the crackling of the fireplace. Who did that then? She untangled herself from the still sound asleep Sherlock and sat up. There was a woman sitting in John's chair. She had black hair, pale skin and bright red lips. She wore leather boots that went up to her knees and a very tight yet elegant white dress.

The Woman stared back at her, the corner of her mouth tilting up. She watched the girl get up out of bed around Sherlock, and sit in the chair across from her. The Woman hadn't expected her to react this way. She had expected the girl to wake Sherlock up in a panic. Instead this girl just watched her curiously.

"And you are?" The Woman asked.

"I'm Arianna," she said, "although I think I'm the one who is more justified to ask that question."

Hmm… The girl was American. Even more interesting.

"I'm Irene. It's a pleasure to meet you." Arianna's eyebrows rose.

"Adler?"

"You've heard about me?" The Woman smirked.

"A little. John said you were dead. Apparently not."

"Yes, it was necessary that he believe that."

They had another minute or so of staring, sizing each other up.

"Aren't you going wake him up?" The Woman asked.

"Why? Do you need to talk to him?" Arianna asked, a sort of challenge in her voice.

"I would very much like to, yes." The Woman said, eyes narrowing.

Arianna stood up and went to Sherlock. Shaking him she said, "Sherlock, you've got a guest. "

Sherlock blinked awake and sat up. Looking at The Woman it took him a second to recognize her. "Hello, Miss Adler." Arianna sat back down in her chair.

"Hello Sherlock. That was a very interesting position I found you in this morning," she smiled knowingly.

Sherlock looked at Arianna questioningly. She shrugged, "I woke up and she was there."

"Very interesting toy you've got here," The Woman said, getting up and going behind Arianna, she leaned in over her shoulder, "She's got some fire in her eyes. And look at all the bruises on her," she tutted, "You haven't been taking a leaf out of my book have you, you naughty boy?" Arianna flinched as The Woman ran a finger over her bruised neck.

Sherlock's shoulders tensed. "Don't be preposterous Irene. There is nothing different about me in that manner since we last saw each other."

"Hmm… Is that so?" Irene straightened from behind Arianna and walked over to Sherlock. Every move she made was filled with raw sexuality. She was like a panther, stalking her prey, graceful and filled with power. Arianna bit her lip nervously. With Sherlock's newfound sexuality, this Woman was a dangerous development indeed. Sherlock was still sitting, and The Woman leaned over and put a hand on his leg, trying to stare him down. Sherlock stared back. It was like a battle of sharp blue eyes. Arianna watched quietly. Sherlock took Irene's wrist and removed her hand slowly.

"I see you haven't really changed either," Sherlock said.

Irene's lips pursed, "I had forgotten about your little pulse trick."

Arianna frowned. Pulse? Irene was in love with Sherlock? This worried her even more.

Sherlock looked at Irene. She hadn't forgotten at all. She wanted him to know. Or maybe… He looked at Arianna, whose eyebrows were drawn together and wore a frown on her face. Maybe Irene wanted Arianna to know.

The Woman smiled wickedly as she saw Sherlock's eyes flash over to the girl. She unbent from him and strode over to her.

"I don't know how you resisted, she's so… delicious." She tilted up Arianna's chin with her thumb and her forefinger. "And those eyes… so exotic and fiery," she leaned in closer. Arianna held her breath as The Woman's lips grazed her jawline. "And her skin is so soft and fragile," She pinched her hard, probably leaving a bruise and turned back to Sherlock. "I'd definitely want a piece of that, wouldn't you?"

Sherlock didn't answer that. "Is there something you need?"

"Not really, I just wanted to come and say hello. See if you were willing to take my offer about those cheekbones now perhaps." Arianna had had enough of her overpowering sexuality. The Woman and Sherlock must have some history that she didn't know about and she didn't want to know anymore.

She stood up, "I think I'll go for a walk. I don't want to intrude on your little reunion anymore."

Sherlock stood and opened his mouth to protest. But The Woman put a hand on his chest and faced Arianna,

"I think that would be best." She smiled at her. Arianna didn't return the smile. She just grabbed her ipod and jacket and left for the door. She slipped her shoes on at the bottom of the stairs before leaving.

"She's touchy, a bit jealous too."

"I'm afraid you don't quite understand her situation. She didn't leave because she was jealous. She was just recently gang raped in a plot to hurt me and anything sexual makes her horribly uncomfortable. And then there's you, with your overwhelming sexuality, not to mention the involvement of bondage. Do you really think someone in her position would want to stay in the same room as you for longer than five minutes?"

Irene's smile faded. "Does that mean I don't get to play with her?" She fake pouted.

"I think you are the last person I want to 'play' with her."

"Or maybe you just want to?" she raised an eyebrow.

Sherlock put his face in his hands. This was not going to be a fun day.

* * *

Arianna put her music on full blast and starting walking. She didn't like this woman. John had said that he thought Sherlock was in love with her. And apparently she was in love with him. She was everything that Arianna wasn't, a mature adult, sexually dominant, and brimming with confidence. She was weak and needy, clinging to him every night like a child. That's what she was, a child, compared to this woman, The Woman. If she wanted to have the slightest chance of keeping Sherlock from falling into her web of seduction, she would have to be stronger. She would have to sleep on her own, stop making him think that she couldn't live without him.

Arianna stopped. If she wanted to win this, it probably wasn't a good idea to leave Irene and Sherlock alone. She turned and ran back towards the flat.

* * *

Sherlock had just finished explaining everything that had been going on for the last month or so. Him talking was the only thing he could do to get her to shut up. She sat next to him, listening intently. He just hoped that she would be leaving soon. As he was speaking, she had started moving closer and closer to him. He noticed of course, but chose to ignore it. If he scolded her every time she had ever made some sort of advance on him, his tongue would surely fall off from exhaustion.

"I think you were wrong about the jealousy."

Good god was she still thinking about that?

"Can you just let that go?"

"I think she likes you."

"Stop."

"I think she _loves_ you."

The Woman was leaning in closer.

"Irene. Drop it."

He didn't hear the footsteps coming up the stairs. She was getting closer and closer. He could feel her breath on his face. He tried to stare her down and away but she didn't stop advancing.

"What do you think Mr. Holmes…?" She closed her eyes and pressed her lips against his. He sat there, unresponsive.

"Uh…" came a voice from behind them.

Sherlock's head snapped around to see Arianna standing in the doorway. Her eyes were wide. "Sorry!" she said, looking down at the ground. "It was a bit chilly outside so I came back in a bit early. Sorry if you weren't expecting me." Her face was red, "I just thought I'd go bake something. I think I'll make muffins." She gave them a shaky smile and hurried into the kitchen.

"I think so." The Woman flashed her mischievous smile.

* * *

Arianna's hands shook as she poured the flour into a large bowl. She turned her music on very loud again. She had been too late. Damnit. She didn't know why she had even imagined that she could possibly win. The Woman was everything Sherlock needed right now, with his sexual discovery. She mixed the ingredients roughly, getting flour everywhere. She was beyond caring though. She wasn't even sure if she was following the recipe correctly. She took a deep breath. It was alright. He was just like any other boy who liked someone else. She just had to cut him off. She didn't like him, that would be stupid of her. He was in love with another woman, making him unavailable, and therefore, not worth her time. She was always sure she would end up alone. Why did she think this circumstance would end differently? For the first time in a long time, her heart was hurting. But she didn't have the patience for heartbreak. So she wrapped it up in bubble wrap and stowed it away deep inside where no one could reach it.

* * *

John smiled as he walked in the door of the flat. He could smell something from the kitchen. He liked it when Arianna baked. He walked up the stairs,

"What're you making this time?" his smile faded as he saw who was in the living room. "You?" John said, "How many times are you going to fake die?"

The Woman smiled at him, "Hello to you too Mr. Watson." John looked around for Arianna. "If you're looking for your pet, she's in the kitchen. Her music is too loud for her to hear you though. Quite the little housewife isn't she? Baking."

John frowned. Arianna only blasted her music this loud when she was upset. "What did you do Sherlock?"

"I didn't do anything," Sherlock said stiffly. John sighed and went into the kitchen next to her. He put a hand on her arm and she jumped a bit in surprise.

"Oh!" she took one of her ear buds out, "Hi John! I'm making muffins. I hope you're hungry." She smiled brightly up at him.

"Are you alright?" John asked warily, "Your music is pretty loud."

"Oh yeah, I was just trying to give them their privacy. I accidentally intruded earlier and I didn't really want a repeat of that."

"Intruded on what?"

Arianna's smile wavered for a split second, but she caught herself quickly. "I don't think it's really my business to say."

John turned and left the kitchen. Arianna put her ear bud back in as he went into the living room.

"I think it'd be best if you left Irene." He said abruptly. The Woman blinked with surprise.

"But I'm having fun," she replied, "And I can't wait to have one of those muffins."

"Well," John said adamantly, "I think it's safe to say that none of the three of us really want you here. I don't know why Sherlock insists on putting up with you. You're rude and inappropriate and you've obviously done something to upset Arianna. So I really think that you should leave."

Sherlock stared at John. It was very rare that he put his foot down like this.

"Fine. I was getting bored anyway." Irene said, slightly taken aback. She got up and grabbed her coat. "I'll see you later boys." Winking at them, she walked out the door.

John was glad to see her leave. He had never liked her. Sherlock had gone through a lot of trouble for this woman. And if she was going to start giving Arianna hell, there was no way he was going to allow her to stick around.

"Well that was harsh." Sherlock said.

"Don't be an idiot Sherlock."

* * *

Luckily the muffins turned out alright. Arianna was relieved to see that The Woman had left. It was around three in the afternoon when she had finished. She worked on her laptop silently for a few hours afterwards, and then made them dinner. It was around nine o' clock when she handed John and Sherlock their food.

"I'm going to lie down," she said.

"Aren't you going to have dinner?" John asked.

"Nah, I'm not really hungry." She went to change into her pajamas.

John looked at Sherlock accusingly as they ate.

"Stop looking at me like that John, I didn't do anything."

"Then what happened that made her so upset?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, just tell me everything that happened."

"Well, she went on a walk because Irene was being her usual self and it made her uncomfortable. And when she came back, Irene tried to prove a point and kissed me as she came in. Then Arianna went into the kitchen to bake. I don't think she was upset, just uncomfortable."

"Sherlock, you are such an idiot."

"Why?"

Before John could respond Arianna came back in. She put her music in and got into bed without a word.

John and Sherlock sat there eating quietly for a few minutes.

When John was finished he stood up, "I'm going to bed. You can figure this out on your own."

Sherlock sighed and went to change into his own pajamas. When he came back into the living room, Arianna was sitting up.

"Sherlock, I think I'd like to sleep alone tonight."

Sherlock was taken aback. "Why? What if you have nightmares?"

"I can deal with them on my own. I need to learn how to take care of myself. Hiding in your arms isn't going to help me with that. Besides, you don't even talk anymore, which was the entire point of you laying in my bed in the beginning. If I'm not helping you think, there's no reason for you to stay with me at night." She hated saying it, but she had to be cold.

Sherlock stared at her. "I suppose you're right."

"Yeah. Goodnight then."

"Goodnight." Sherlock turned and left.

Arianna sighed as she sat there alone. Then she remembered something. She got up and went into her closet. In her suitcase was her forgotten stuffed tiger. His name was Streepje, which was a Dutch word that pretty much translated to Stripey. She got back into bed and pressed her face up against it. It smelled like her old home. She had always cuddled with it as a child when she had nightmares. Hopefully it would work like it used to.

It took her a long to fall asleep that night, she was colder than usual. But she had to be strong. She had to do this if she wanted to heal. She couldn't rely on others to always be there for her.

In the end, she just had to be there for herself.


	22. A Challenge

It was a quiet Sunday morning. John read the paper while Sherlock explained the effects of saline on dead body parts to Arianna. They sat cross legged in the middle of the kitchen floor surrounded by severed fingers, ears and feet, looking at them under microscopes.

Arianna had gone full swing back into her apprenticeship. She cut of all relations with Sherlock other than learning. No more hugs, no more hand holding, no more lessons in kissing. She and John had just about the same relationship as always, she didn't mind hugging him. He was almost like a father to her right now. Maybe an uncle. She gladly sat close to him in front of the fireplace, reading the paper over his shoulder. But Sherlock she always kept at arm's length. She still cooked all the meals and went grocery shopping with John, because she actually enjoyed doing that.

Sherlock didn't like the way Arianna had pushed him away. But he wasn't going to let her know that. Instead he copied her business like demeanor and resumed his teaching as he had in the beginning. One thing he changed from his original style though was that he gave her encouragement and praise, often telling her that she was doing very well. Arianna didn't respond as she might have in the past. She would have usually been ecstatic. Instead she said a very formal thank you and just continued their work.

It was around one in the afternoon when the doorbell rang. Arianna got up to go get it but Sherlock stopped her,

"Mrs. Hudson will get it. This is more important."

Sure enough, Mrs. Hudson got the door after a few more rings and sent whoever it was upstairs. Arianna and Sherlock looked up as the figure appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

It was a boy about Arianna's age, with black messy hair and green eyes. He put his hands on his hips and looked at them with a fierce determination.

"My name is Gale, and I've come here to become your new apprentice!" He said loudly.

The three of them stared at him in shock.

"Excuse me?" Arianna said, "I'm afraid you're too late. He's already got an apprentice."

He glared at her. "Well then, I've come to remove you from that position and take your place."

Arianna stood and put her hands on her hips as well, staring him down.

"I'd like to see you try." He didn't back down under her scowl. "I'm his apprentice, and it's going to stay that way."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "But you're a girl. Vulnerable and too scared to get dirty. I'm three times more useful than you."

Arianna fumed, "You don't know anything about my use! I suggest you leave now, before I make you leave myself," she said furiously.

"How 'bout this, if you're so useful, let's have a contest. Whoever Sherlock decides is the best, gets to be his apprentice."

Sherlock cut in, "Uh yes, hello. I think that maybe I should get a say in this before you start battling to the death."

Arianna folded her arms and smiled smugly, "Yeah, Sherlock. Tell him."

"I think it would be a fabulous idea."

"That's what I- wait. What?" Arianna spun around. "I _live_ here! You can't replace me!"

"We won't kick you out if you lose, you just won't continue in our studies."

"But I've been here for over two months! That's two months of work! You can't just ignore that and start over on this boy just because he comes in here and challenges me!"

"Sure I can. It's just like any other job position, if someone more talented comes along, the other gets fired."

"But I'm more than just your apprentice! I'm-" Arianna stopped. She wasn't really anything besides that anymore. She and Sherlock had no more emotional ties. She was his employee. A pang of pain flashed through her. She was replaceable. Then a fury and determination rose up in her. She turned back to the idiot who dared oppose her, "Fine. But you'd better be prepared run home crying. Because I swear to God. I. Will not. Lose."

The boy smiled at her confidently, "We'll see."

* * *

"He's moving in?" Arianna yelled.

"Well of course, it would be an unfair advantage if you lived here and he didn't," Sherlock said.

"Where will he stay?"

"We're going to put him in the room in the unrented flat downstairs."

Arianna felt like she was going to explode like a volcano.

"So," she steamed, "You put me in a bed in the living room. And now this rat comes along and you're going to give him his own room?"

"Yes."

Arianna fought the urge to punch the smug idiot in the face and stormed into the kitchen where John sat at the table.

"This is ridiculous!"

"I don't know why you're so upset," John said, not looking up from his eggs.

"Because Sherlock is going to replace me! Then I'll be stuck behind while he goes around with that imbecile!"

"Only if you lose." Arianna stopped,

"What?"

"You'll only be replaced if you lose. All you have to do is prove that you're better, which you probably are, and then the boy is out."

"Are you sure I'll win?"

"You said yourself that he had been training you for over two months. That's one hell of a head start. Also, that boy seems pretty arrogant. Arrogance is never an advantage."

"You're right," Arianna started to calm down, "I can beat this guy easily. He's just a pompous asshole. We don't even know how smart he is. Sherlock already knows that I'm brilliant." She let out a gust of air, "Thanks John."

"No problem."

She could outsmart this guy. This wasn't just a battle of wits. It was a battle of will power. One that she would not lose.

* * *

Arianna set plates in front of the three men for dinner. She had made spaghetti and meatballs that night. She'd even made garlic bread as a side dish. Gale wrinkled his nose as he smelled it.

"Does this have oregano in it?"

Arianna took a deep breath, "Yes."

"I don't like oregano."

"Well then, I hope you like starving," she said cheerfully, flashing him a fake smile. John snickered. Sherlock didn't seem to think it was funny though,

"Don't be rude Arianna, get him something else."

"No way."

"This isn't helping your fight."

"This should have nothing to do with my apprenticeship," Arianna snapped, "I cook for you guys because I want to, not because I have to. If this is involved in the game, then he should have to cook me things that I like, or clean up after me, or keep me entertained like you've been making me do with him."

"He is a guest; we want him to feel welcome."

"He is _your_ guest, not mine. He is my competition. It is not my job to make him feel welcome. Now he can eat his spaghetti like a big boy or continue to act like a child and get nothing to eat at all."

Arianna and Sherlock stared at each other, arguing silently. Gale sighed,

"Fine, I'll eat it. Just stop fighting like a married couple." He smirked.

It took all of her self-control not to wring his neck. She picked up her plate,

"I'm going to go eat outside."

"But it's freezing outside!" John exclaimed.

"Whatever, I'll wear a jacket. The reek of idiocy is too much for me to handle in here." With that she stormed out of the kitchen and got her jacket and shoes. She slammed the door behind her as she went outside. She sat on the steps, eating and watching the people walk by. It was peaceful outside, the crisp air turning her breath into fog.

"Well, well, what have we got here?" A voice said to her left. Arianna turned. There stood The Woman. Great, her again.

"What are you doing here Irene?"

"Oh, I was just passing by and happened to see you out here on the steps. Did you get kicked out?"

"No, I came out here of my own will."

"And why is that?" Arianna hesitated. She wasn't sure if she wanted to share. But she was so frustrated that it all poured out.

"This stupid boy came and challenged me to a competition of who could be a better apprentice. He's convinced that he'll win because women are weak. And now he's living with us and Sherlock is making me act like I'm his servant. I already cook all the meals, and this stupid boy is complaining about how he doesn't like oregano!" She slammed her fist on the ground beside her. "The worst part of all of this is the fact that Sherlock even let this happen, which means I'm replaceable, expendable, _disposable_." She spat out, "He is completely open to the idea that there may be someone better than me, even though he's been mentoring me for two months. He doesn't care about me anymore. I'm just an accessory."

"Hmm… Well that is quite an obstacle." The Woman murmured, "But I think there is something significant about your difference in gender."

"So you're saying that just because-" Arianna started.

"No, I'm saying that you need to remember that you are a _woman_." She smiled slyly at her, "And women are very good at all sorts of _persuasion_."

Arianna blinked, confused. "I don't think I get it."

"Don't worry, you will in time," The Woman leaned over and kissed her cheek, "Good luck." And with that she turned and left.

Arianna sat there, thinking about what she had said. While she thought, it began to snow. She looked up at the dark sky. She didn't quite know what she had meant. But, she smiled as a snowflake landed on her nose, if The Woman had faith in her, she must have a chance.


	23. The Competition

"Ugh," Gale said, wrinkling his nose, "Why are we in this gross alley? It stinks."

"Stop being such a priss," Arianna said, "You're going to have to get used to smells if you wanna get far in this game." That ugly face he made turned out to be a common occurrence that she was not fond of. "When you came here I didn't expect you to be such a girl. Man up."

"You'd know all about manning up," he sneered, "Look at what you're wearing. Have you no sense of femininity?" Arianna looked down at herself. She wasn't wearing anything horribly manly, just some running pants, which were actually relatively tight, and a baggy sweatshirt.

"What, so at first I'm useless because I'm a girl, and now I'm not feminine enough?!"

"Alright you two, stop fighting," Sherlock cut in, "That fence. First one over, wins this round." Arianna and Gale stared at the fence. It was at least ten feet high. Then they glared at each other.

"Ready to lose?" Gale taunted.

"As if," Arianna rolled her eyes, "I'll even give you a head start."

With that Gale shot at the fence. Arianna smirked as he got a grip on it and started to climb. She knew he would take the obvious route. She gave him two more seconds before backing up a few steps, and then sprinting towards it. But instead of going straight to the fence she used a crate as a step and launched herself onto a dumpster up against the fence. From there she grabbed the top of the fence, now easily reachable, and vaulted herself over it, landing on all fours as Gale reached the top. She straightened and grinned triumphantly. He dropped down beside her and said angrily,

"That's cheating!"

"No," said Sherlock, "That's clever thinking. Good job Arianna."

"Thank you Sherlock," Arianna beamed. Gale scowled.

"It's not always about strength," Sherlock said, "it's about efficiency. A smart weaker person is of more use to me that an idiotic strong one."

Arianna stuck her tongue out at Gale, who made a face back at her. Sherlock shook his head.

"Alright, come back over the fence now."

Arianna didn't have anything to jump on now, so she had to climb like Gale. And even though Sherlock didn't make it a competition they were determined to beat each other, and rushed up the fence. Gale landed a split second before Arianna did, who grumbled at his gloating face,

"It's not like I actually tried or anything."

* * *

Later that night they all sat around the fire place, where Sherlock lectured about the mistakes and achievements they had made that day. Arianna and Gale were sore and tired and in serious need of a shower, but neither of them were going to be the weak one to say so while Sherlock was speaking. Gale was one challenge ahead of her, because one of them involved spiders. She still did it, she just couldn't think as clearly as Gale had, who had no issue with them at all. Gale had been there for almost a week. The first three days Sherlock had spent quizzing him like he had with Arianna on her first day at the café. Then they had spent a day with Sherlock in the lab, where he scored them on their ability to be useful and not get in the way. Arianna knew that he didn't like people being too close to him while he was looking through his microscope. Gale had made the mistake of looking over Sherlock's shoulder, resulting in a smack in the face with a ruler. Molly was a stuttering mess, as always. She was shocked and completely unaware of what to do with the fact that he had children in there with him looking at him beat dead bodies with a rolling pin and numerous other things. Today was the day when they had started their physical challenges, and they were exhausted. So they were relieved to hear that tomorrow would be their last day of challenges.

Sherlock said that their last two challenges would have to do with other people. He had noticed that ever since the boy had arrived, Arianna had gotten closer to him. Not emotionally, just physically. Like a wildcat guarding her territory. The only difference in her attitude towards him was that she took his complements much more to heart. She used to just respond indifferently, but now he got a giant smile from her. That was the only reason he had let this boy stay. He knew for a fact that Arianna was better, but he also knew that if someone threatened her position as a significant factor in his life she would stop being so formal with him to make him keep her around.

He had gone back to his old sleep schedule, which was of course, not sleeping. In the beginning, he heard Arianna having nightmares every night, and after being yelled at for coming in and waking her up he had to restrain himself afterwards. The nightmares had become fewer over the last three weeks, but he still had broken numerous pencils with the effort it took him not to rush in there and wake her and hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. During the day, Arianna gave no sign that she needed anything but Sherlock's mentorship. She acted as if she were healed and completely fine. But he had to listen every night to the proof that she wasn't. The way she acted only affirmed his suspicions though. He had been sure that the only thing that had drawn Arianna to him was physical attraction. Now that she had none, and had been that way for quite a while, she didn't want him anymore. He had been right.

For once being right didn't please him. He missed her. Her attentive stare, her loud and awkward but adorable laugh, the way she always tried to make him feel better even if she was feeling awful herself, that was all gone now. Instead there was a business-like shell of her, robotic and uncaring. Only sometimes, if he got lucky, her eyes would get that old glow of awe and interest that she used to get while she listened to him. These were some of his happiest moments.

He knew that Arianna would win tomorrow. He just hoped that once her place was reestablished, she wouldn't go back to her cold self.

* * *

They stood in a pub, it was crowded and smoky. It was a Saturday night and people were out drinking with friends, watching football and eating chips. Sherlock, Arianna, and Gale sat in a booth in the corner. Gale and Arianna watched Sherlock nervously, wondering what on Earth he had planned here.

"Why did you bring that big bag full of stuff?" Gale asked her, looking at her black backpack that was nearly ripping at the seams.

"Always good to be prepared for anything," Arianna said, refusing to look at him. Sherlock nodded in approval.

"For your second to last challenge, I want you to go get ten dollars from someone in this bar. Only rules are that it cannot be by force, or theft. Scoring will be based upon how quickly you bring it back, and how many tries you go through before getting it."

Arianna and Gale paused for a moment, thinking. This was an odd objective. It must have to do with using your powers of persuasion. Arianna remembered what The Woman had said,

_Women are very good at all sorts of persuasion._

Arianna smiled, she was going to win this. And she knew exactly how.

* * *

Arianna came out of the bathroom five minutes later. Happy to see that Gale hadn't had any luck yet she looked around the room for Sherlock. He sat at the bar now, watching Gale closely.

Sherlock had said that one must always go into battle with the right attire. In her bag she had a huge assortment of things. One of which was a police woman costume. Although upon opening it she had discovered it was much less modest than she had expected, it actually worked to her advantage today. It was an obvious fake, and this worked perfectly. She had put a sticker upon her right breast that said "TIPS" with an arrow pointing to where her cleavage stuck out. Her heels were very high, clicking as she walked out. She had also put on makeup, accentuating her eyes. She waited for Sherlock to notice that she had come out, doing a double take, before confidently striding over to one of the booths. She had noticed them when they had come in earlier, a bachelor party. When she reached the table she put a hand on her hip, smiled coyly and said,

"Did somebody order a kiss-o-gram for the stag?" The men, all drunk and assuming that one of the others had ordered a kiss-o-gram, cheered. They gestured at the man sitting in a chair at the end of the table, clapping and cheering even louder as he turned around to face her. They didn't seem to notice how much younger she was than all of them; they were all in their mid-twenties at least. She gave herself a silent self-assurance and bent over to kiss him. Grabbing his shirt and pulling him forward, as she imagined a kiss-o-gram would, forceful and sexy. The men caused such a great ruckus that she was sure everyone must be staring. She let him go and straightened back up. The man grinned up at her dizzily. She worked to keep her disgust from showing. He tasted like alcohol. He was so drunk she could have probably pushed him with her pinky and he would have fallen over. She smiled at them and someone yelled,

"Somebody tip the girl!"

The men all rushed to get out their wallets. Climbing and stumbling over each other to put the money in her shirt. She struggled to keep smiling. But it did work out well, she wound up with about fifty dollars. She strode victoriously back to Sherlock, whose face was stricken. He sat stiffly as she reached into her shirt and pulled out a ten, putting it in his breast pocket. She turned around and saw Gale staring at her, jaw hanging wide open. She winked and turned back towards the bathroom to change.

The three of them sat in a cab silently. Arianna was smiling while Gale and Sherlock sat with very uncomfortably awkward expressions on their faces. She laughed inwardly; it seemed as if they had forgotten that she was even a girl, and that the appearance of her breasts in the tight outfit had legitimately put them into shock.

Sherlock had indeed forgotten about this. He had been so busy pining after her emotional presence that he hadn't remembered the other feelings she had awakened in him. Then she was there in that incredibly provocative outfit, hips swaying as she walked, and he thought he might die with longing. But then she had kissed that disgusting man, so drunk he probably wouldn't ever remember it in the morning and it infuriated him. Her lips should not be wasted on such idiotic vermin. He had almost forgotten about the competition when she came towards him afterwards, her slight smile so inviting. She's coming for me, he had thought. Some delusional part of his brain overrode his logic and made him believe for a split second that she was coming to bestow him with that same glorious kiss that she had given the other man. Then she had given him the ten and he had come back down to Earth.

He had seen the same look on Gale's face as she walked away. The absolutely astounded expression of confusion and arousal. This could turn out to be a problem. He had read that hate and love were quite often balanced quite precariously over the same line. He wondered if this would affect his performance in the next challenge.

The taxi pulled up to a gym. The clerk at the desk, an old client of Sherlock's, let them in without a word. Sherlock led them to an abandoned room with a cushioned floor. Mirrors covered all of the walls, but besides that the room was empty.

"Alright," Sherlock said, turning to them, "For your next task you have to fight."

"Fight who?" Arianna said, looking around and waiting for some old client of Sherlock's who had a degree in martial arts or something to come out.

Sherlock smiled at them,

"Each other."


	24. The fight

_Hi guys! I'm so glad you guys liked the last chapter so much! I was actually really nervous that you guys wouldn't but thankfully everything turned out okay! I'm so excited, last night the viewers hit 1,000! I NEVER thought this many people would read it when I started. Thank you my lovely reviewers, you help me even more than you may know. Your criticism has helped me improve, and your compliments have increased my confidence in writing. I hope you guys like this chapter. :D_

Arianna stood facing Gale, about four feet away. They stood in the middle of the large room. Her fingers twitched as she held her arms at her sides, feet shoulder width apart. After she had been attacked, Sherlock had given her some self-defense lessons. But she didn't know how well they had worked yet. This wasn't just a neutral party testing her skill, this was another person who wanted to win this as bad as she did, someone who wanted to beat her. And this was it; whoever won this won the entire game. This was the tie-breaker. There was something reluctant in Gales eyes, like the old as dirt excuse of not wanting to hit a girl. But she definitely wanted to hit him. There would be no hesitation on her part.

"Now the goal is to incapacitate the other. Don't break bones or draw too much blood. Just gain the dominating position for long enough for it to be considered a win. There will be three rounds." Sherlock said from in front of the door.

They both nodded that they understood.

"Start."

Arianna launched herself at Gale, who seemed to go in slow motion. He still had that hesitant look in his eyes and barely put up a fight as she pushed his chest back and swept her legs under his feet. His arms flew forward to grab into her but failed and got the wind knocked out of him as he hit the floor. He lay there gasping for a few seconds.

"Arianna wins the first round," Sherlock said, sounding disappointed. He had hoped the boy would at least try.

But Gale's face was empty of hesitation now. He resumed his determined demeanor and got up, his eyes showing that he had no intention of losing this time.

"Start."

This time, Gale was the first to attack. He leapt at her, swinging an arm at her head. She dropped to the ground, and then kicked at his shin. He lifted his leg in time, and Arianna hit air. She stumbled a bit, unbalanced. Taking the opportunity, he brought his foot down with force, stomping on her leg. Arianna cried out in pain. Then she rolled sideways as he aimed another kick at her. She tried to stand, but her leg hurt too badly for her to get a firm stance. She stumbled a bit, giving Gale the opening to aim a blow at her back, knocking her forwards onto her stomach. Gale went to strike again but Sherlock stopped him,

"That's enough. Gale has won this round."

Arianna rolled over, gasping. Damn, he hit _hard_. She couldn't let him get a blow on her like that again. She would have to get too close to let him swing and hit her. Sherlock gave her a minute to catch her breath before making her get up again. Her lungs hurt as she stood face to face with Gale again. This was it, she had to win this round or else it was all over.

"Start."

Gale swung at her head again. But instead of going to the ground, she ducked and rammed into his middle. Tackling him to the ground she struggled to get on top of him. He fought back and tried to flip her over to pin her down. She rolled over and tried to pin him down as well. The next minute or two was spent this way, a battle that kept changing victors. One second, Gale would be on top, and then Arianna would gain the upper hand for a moment.

Then Gale managed to get his hands around Arianna's wrists and push them to the ground. She struggled to get out of his grip, but to no avail. She looked up at him. There was a sort of animalistic look in his eyes. Panic bubbled up in her throat as she had a flash of the last time she had been pinned like this. Gale's eyes glowed with victory for a moment as he saw that fear was overriding her ability to fight. But instead of this panic shutting her down as it had before, it fueled her.

Using the energy she may have used before to scream, went into her legs as she kicked him in the chest. He went flying off of her and landed on the ground. Struggling to breath he tried to get back up. But Arianna wasn't going to allow that. She put her foot on his back and pushed so that he went from his hands and knees back down to his stomach. Sherlock watched and waited to see if he would get back up. But he couldn't.

"Arianna wins. The game is over."

Arianna sighed in relief and dropped to her knees. She felt as if her lungs were bleeding. Her breath came out ragged as Gale flipped over onto his back, gasping as well. She looked at him,

"Hope you have fun telling everyone you got your ass kicked by a girl." She got up, offering him her hand. He looked at her hesitantly before taking it. She pulled him to his feet and patted him on the shoulder. "Good fight, I thought you had me there for a second."

Gale smiled, "Yeah, you too." Now that she didn't have to worry about him taking Sherlock from her, the contempt she had for him practically vanished. She smiled back, relieved that this was all over.

Sherlock didn't like how friendly they were being towards each other, especially after the look Gale had on his face earlier that day. He walked in between them, putting a hand on Arianna's shoulder.

"Good job," he smiled at her.

"Thanks," she replied, still looking at Gale. He had weird look on his face. Usually whenever he looked at her his nose wrinkled in disgust. Now he was looking at her like... he liked her. Arianna felt bad for him, the poor thing. He wasn't too bad looking or anything. She just had absolutely no interest in him in that way. She didn't have interest in _anything _sexual, and emotionally she would always view him as the little git who tried to kick her out of her rightful place. Not to mention she had this man over here, with his hand on her shoulder, that managed to keep her ensnared in his damn web.

Even though she had tried her usual logic of the heart, she still had that slight ache whenever he smiled at her. Part of her hated him for it. She couldn't stand that he had managed to break through her barriers that she had so carefully placed. That was part of the reason that she was so cold, she had to push him away as far as possible so that he would act in the same manner. It was easier to pretend that she didn't have feelings for him if he wasn't being affectionate towards her.

So when Gale had packed his things and went to leave and he had asked her,

"So maybe I could call you? We could go outside some time,"

She said, "Sorry, you're really not my type." And shut the door.

She went back upstairs, where John sat reading and Sherlock played the violin. She walked up to Sherlock, who stopped playing, and said,

"Don't you ever do that to me again," and hugged him. He hugged her back as best as he could with a violin in his hands. She let go and punched him lightly on the shoulder, "Asshole."

He grinned at her.


	25. Chicken Soup

_Ahhh! I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated! I've just been sick and apparently my creativity flow stuffs up when my nose does haha. I hated seeing you guys upset over me not updating! I was panicking. I think you'll see where I got my inspiration from :D I hope you like this chapter. I think you will. But I won't say anymore, I'll just let you read. 3_

Arianna groaned as she woke up around midday. John looked over at her,

"It's about time you woke up. Sherlock went out to investigate a new case without you. He was too impatient to wait for you to wake up yourself after he tried three times himself."

Arianna coughed. Her head hurt and she couldn't breathe through her nose. She sniffled and sat up. She felt like she had been hit by a bus. She groaned again.

"Everything okay?" John said, looking concerned, "Your face is a bit flushed."

"Yeah I'm fine," she stood, stumbling a bit. Her head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. John stood as well, taking her arm and putting a hand on her forehead.

"You've got a fever, I think you're sick."

"I feel fine, just peachy…" she had a coughing fit.

"Nope," John said, "Get back in bed. Doctor's orders."

"But… I gotta go help Sherlock…" she protested feebly as John made her sit back down on the bed.

"Nope. Sherlock will be fine on his own. You need rest."

She surrendered and lay back down. John pulled the covers over her.

"I'll call Sherlock to pick something up for you."

He patted her on the head and went to get his phone.

* * *

"Sick?" Sherlock stopped what he was doing as he talked to John on his phone, "How sick? Is she vomiting? Does she have a bad fever? Does she need to go to the hospital? Does she need me? Should I come home now?" His voice quick and panicked, without stopping to take a breath.

"She's fine," John laughed, "Just a cold. I just need you to get her some medicine from the store on your way back."

"Right. Medicine. I'm on it." He turned away from the crime scene and went to leave.

"Wait!" Lestrade called, "What about the case?"

"The brother did it. Completely obvious. Didn't you see his cufflinks?"

Lestrade shook his head as Sherlock continued to walk briskly away. He had heard part of the conversation and assumed it was Arianna. In the past he may have teased Sherlock for how worried he sounded, but the way Sherlock cared about her so much made him think twice. He wouldn't want to make Sherlock feel self-conscious about it and become cold again.

* * *

Sherlock stood in the drug aisle. There were so many different bottles! Which one was he supposed to get? All of them claimed to be the best! There were ones for children and nighttime and daytime and specifically for coughing or sneezing or headaches or fevers. His head spun. This was why he let John do the grocery shopping.

He finally picked one and went to walk away. Then stopped. This one said cough on it. What if she had congestion too? He turned back and grabbed another bottle.

But wait, where these for nighttime or daytime? It didn't even say on the back. He grabbed two more bottles, one for both. His hands were starting to get full. He went to leave again.

But wait. What if…?

He was going to need a basket.

* * *

Arianna woke up to the sound of many objects being poured onto her bed. She opened her eyes to see at lease fifteen different cold medicines at her feet.

"Why did you get so many?" John exclaimed.

"I couldn't figure out which one to get! They make it so complicated! Couldn't they just make one cold medicine that works for everything? And what's the difference between nighttime and daytime medicine anyways? Is the daytime one activated by the sun or something?" Sherlock said. The woman at the checkout had looked at him strangely as well.

John laughed, "Never mind."

They didn't notice that Arianna had woken. Why did Sherlock seem so panicked? It was only a cold. And it's not like he really cared that much about her anyway. If she was ever in any kind of pain recently he would simply tell her to get over it, or just completely ignore her. Now his eyes were wide with worry, and his mind must have been completely addled if he had done such a poor job at buying medicine. It really wasn't that complicated at all.

She stretched and looked at the clock, stopping their conversation.

"You're back earlier than I expected Sherlock. I thought you'd finish the case before you went to buy me medicine."

"It was quite simple really. Only took a matter of seconds to figure it out," Sherlock sniffed. His eyes going from worried to their usual indifferent look. John watched the change happen, also seeing Arianna's face fall as she noticed as well. Sherlock always showed his true feelings when she wasn't looking. If he thought she would see him, his resumed his casual and uncaring demeanor. He didn't know why Sherlock was trying so hard to make her believe he didn't care about her. He was like a ten year old boy with a crush.

Arianna coughed and sat up. "Well thank you for putting so much thought into getting the right medicine for me." She smiled at him. His face softened a bit.

"Well," John sighed, "Let's figure out which one to give her. It'd probably be best if you stepped back for this one Sherlock." He chuckled; it felt nice to be the one who knew what do to while the other was clueless for once.

Sherlock grumbled and went into the kitchen. He had never had to take care of someone who was sick before. What was he supposed to do? He remembered in some of the books he had read that they were supposed to eat chicken soup. That shouldn't be too hard. He wasn't much of a chef, but surely there was something on the internet that would instruct him.

He grabbed his laptop from the living room as John poured some purple liquid into a small cup for Arianna. He searched _How to make chicken soup. _There was a how-to on a recipe website and it wasn't long before he had an assortment of ingredients around him on the counter. It was simple enough; luckily John and Arianna had gotten chicken from the store recently.

* * *

Arianna sat in bed reading. John had gotten a call from work and needed to go in and she hadn't seen Sherlock since John sent him away. She was turning the page when she smelled something. Looking up from her book she stopped, mid-turn. The smell was coming from the kitchen. She put her book down and got up, shuffling to the kitchen. She found Sherlock, mixing a large pot on the stove, adding salt and pepper. She came up from behind and peered around him.

"You're making soup?" she asked, sniffling. This was a surprise. Sherlock never cooked anything. "Why?"

"Because chicken soup is good for people with a cold," He said without looking at her.

"Oh… it's for me?"

"Obviously. You're the only one here who is ill." Arianna looked at him, he almost looked embarrassed.

She rested her head on his arm, "Thank you."

He didn't respond to that. Instead he scooped some soup up with a spoon and held it in front of her face. She blew on it and took a sip.

"It's delicious," she smiled up at him. The corner of his mouth barely twitched up.

"Go sit down," he muttered. She went to sit at the table as he took a bowl out of the cabinet and put soup in it. He placed it in front her with a spoon and sat next to her. He studied her reaction as she ate. She stopped after a few bites,

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm seeing if the stories about chicken soup making people better are true."

Arianna giggled,

"It does work like that. You don't get immediate results. It just feels nice when you're sick."

"Oh." Sherlock looked disappointed.

"It tastes really good though," she smiled at him reassuringly.

He stared at her blankly. Even when she was pale and sick she was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen when she smiled at him. Her smile faded, confused.

"Are you okay? You're acting weird. First soup and now you're looking at me like…" Honestly he looked like a love sick puppy, but there was no way that was it. The way he had been acting lately, he didn't seem to care about her at all. Now he was leaving work early to buy her medicine and make her soup? Not to mention the dazed look he was giving her when she knew she must look disgusting and sick. She could feel his breath on her face.

Wait. When had he gotten so close? His curly hair brushed against her forehead. She jumped up out of her chair, stuttering,

"I uh, have to go to the bathroom," and scampered out of the kitchen. Damnit! Bathroom? Really? Smooth, Arianna. But she couldn't help it, her brain had just stopped. She had panicked. Ugh.

She splashed her face with water and looked at herself in the mirror. God she looked a mess. Her hair was a rats' nest and her skin was yellowy. There was no way Sherlock had been about to kiss her while she looked like this. Maybe she was just imagining things. He had never had a problem with getting in her face. Maybe he had just seen a color in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before… She ignored how stupid that sounded and went with it. Right, there was no way he was going to kiss her. He didn't like her or anything. It was stupid of her to think so.

Sherlock put his face in his hands. He had scared her off. It was stupid of him to think that he could try to kiss her like that. He just couldn't help himself. Her face was so close and inviting. But then she had jumped up and ran to the bathroom, obviously flustered. She was just trying to be nice so that she wouldn't have to reject him directly. He heard the bathroom door open and straightened back up as Arianna appeared in the kitchen, smiling as though nothing had happened. She sat back down and resumed eating.

"So," she said between bites, "what was the case about today?"

"A man was strangled with a towel in his bathroom. It was blindingly obvious who had done it."

"Hmm…" Arianna said swallowing another spoonful, "Who was it?"

"The brother. Fueled by childish jealousy. Completely unoriginal. Sibling rivalry is so boring and pointless."

Arianna snorted, "Yes, because you would never take any part in any sibling quarrels."

He stuck his tongue out at her and she puffed her cheeks out at him in return. Sherlock laughed, it was an utterly ridiculous expression. Arianna laughed as well. When they stopped they just looked at each other quietly. Arianna got a strange expression on her face. Like she… Sherlock's smile faded. Her eyes grew wide and she flushed red. Getting up she put her empty bowl in the sink.

She cursed at herself. She had suddenly started thinking about how attractive he was, and he recognized it on her face. That was embarrassing. She had worked so hard to cover her feelings for him and it looked as if that curtain was slipping.

"Arianna."

She spun around. She hadn't heard him get up. He had been right behind her. She stumbled backwards and bumped into the counter. He was so close that she had to crane her neck to see his face. Her breath caught as he leaned in.

Sherlock had seen the look in her eyes at the table and everything had shifted. It was the look he had seen in the movies that John took his girlfriends to. Not to mention her pupils were dilated. As he got closer to her he took her wrist to check her pulse. She snatched it out of his grip, eyes widening. She knew this trick already, and didn't want him to use it. He smiled. He had been wrong all along. For once he was glad to be wrong. The corner of his mouth lifted as he bent down and touched his forehead to hers.

"Sherlock, I-" Arianna stuttered.

"Shh…" he leaned in and put his mouth on hers. Putting his hands on her waist he pulled her closer to him. He kissed her hungrily and somewhat clumsily. He didn't quite know what he was doing but this was what he had needed, what he had been aching for. Her soft lips yielded to his. But this wasn't like his dreams. In his dreams Arianna had been responding with equal passion. Now she just emitted a sense of surprise and surrender. Like she was simply allowing it, not enjoying it. He flinched like he had been slapped.

Arianna didn't know what to do. She did like Sherlock, but it was as if she had forgotten how to kiss. She had been so sure that he didn't want her romantically. But here he was, and he was kissing her. She couldn't react, just stood there as he pulled her closer. But then she felt him realize that she wasn't responding. She could feel him retract as he thought she was rejecting him. And then something sparked in her brain. She couldn't hurt him. As he started to withdraw she frantically wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back. Pressing herself to him she returned his kiss with vigor.

Sherlock froze with surprise. Then he continued to kiss her eagerly. With her more experienced lead their kisses became more passionate, her hands slipping into his curly hair, and his grip so tight on her waist that he feared he might leave bruises. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered now but this. Nothing but her warmth and her taste. He was enveloped in it as they pressed so close he could barely tell where she began and he ended.

Eventually they had to break apart, breathing heavily. Sherlock rested his chin on her head as she placed small kisses on his chest and neck, wrapping her arms his middle.

"Oh…" Sherlock said, a bit dizzy.

Arianna let out a small laugh and rested her head on his chest, "Yeah…"

He stroked her hair as they stood there.

"That was different…"

"mhm…"

"and nice…"

"I'm glad you liked it," Arianna looked up at him, smiling.

"It was a lot different than I expected." He had always assumed that kissing would be something grotesque and slimy.

"Was it?"

"Yes… I may have to perform a few more tests though… to be able to come up with any firm conclusion."

"Of course," she laughed.

* * *

Arianna woke up the next morning feeling a thousand times better. John was reading the paper, as always. She got up to get some orange juice.

"Where's Sherlock?" She asked.

"I think he's still in bed."

She went into his room. He was asleep, his mouth open slightly. It was noon, and he didn't like sleeping in, so she went to wake him. He woke up, groaning.

"Good morning sleepy head, its midday. Time to wake up."

He coughed weakly and sat up slowly. Sniffling he said,

"I think I'm ill…"

Arianna laughed.

"I guess I'll just have to make you some chicken soup then."


	26. Patience

_I'm really sorry that I've been updating slower lately! The words are just coming out slower than usual. Luckily this is a relatively long chapter. Hope you like it._

Lestrade wanted Sherlock to come in to the station. Apparently, "Didn't you see the cufflinks?" wasn't enough evidence to take this man to court. Before he went in point out specifics in the evidence however, he, John, and Arianna had run into Anderson and Donovan.

"Oh, it's you," Donovan sneered, "I thought I had caught a whiff of freak." Arianna was stunned by her rudeness.

"And I think I'm catching whiff of men's deodorant. Have you two been spending extracurricular time together again?" Sherlock said back, smirking. This surprised Arianna, this woman was actually pretty hot. But the man… she'd probably rate him a three on a scale of attractiveness.

"Who's that? Oh yeah, some delusional idiot gave you a kid didn't they?" Anderson said.

"Poor thing," Donovan said, "He must do horrible experiments on her. Probably traumatized. Look at how quiet she is, with her eyes all wide."

John inhaled sharply as he saw a spark of anger in Arianna's eyes. Oh no.

"Actually, the reason I'm being so quiet is because I'm absolutely _appalled _by how rude you're being to someone who doesn't even have to be here," she snapped. "He doesn't have to come here and help you, but you would be lost without him." She looked from her to Anderson, "And also, _him?_ Really? I mean, good job man. She's hot. The only problem is the fact that she's a raging bitch." Her lip curled with disgust as she turned back to Donovan, "How low has your self-esteem got to be, if you'll sleep with that? Maybe that's why you pick on Sherlock so much. You're both just two classic elementary school bullies, assholes to everyone who's different to make you feel better about yourselves. Sherlock may be strange to you, but at least he's mature enough to not be a passive aggressive ass wipe like you two. It's really sad."

Donovan and Anderson just stared at her, obviously very surprised at being told off by a teenager. Sherlock smiled at them,

"Looks like the experiments went better than you thought."

John shook his head. It seemed like he was the only one who ever stayed calm. Anderson looked as if he was going say something but Lestrade came in,

"Come on in. It shouldn't take too long. Not you two," he said to Arianna and John, "there are too many officials around. It looks suspicious enough just bringing him in here." Arianna huffed and sat down in one of the chairs, John sat next to her. Donovan sniffed indignantly and left, Anderson behind her.

"Sorry I caused a scene," Arianna muttered.

"It's okay," John said, "They've been asking from a good scolding for a while now. Everything you said was quite true."

Arianna nodded.

"Uh, John?"

"Yeah?"

"Why don't you have girlfriend? Sherlock said you used to have them all the time. But I haven't seen any."

John laughed,

"Actually, I do. I've just been hiding it."

"No way, you can't hide something like that from Sherlock."

"Usually, I can't. But I think that you've just been distracting him from me lately. And he can't tell if I smell like a woman because it could just be your perfume."

"Oh… I'm sorry."

"For what?" John looked at her, confused.

"For distracting Sherlock from you. He's your best friend; I don't wanna take up all of his time."

"It's alright. It's good for us to both have more than just each other in our lives. And I quite like actually being able to have a relationship without his nose in it."

Arianna nodded, she understood. She remembered all too well the whole mess with Tom.

"So, what's her name?"

"Jamie."

"Am I ever gunna get a chance to meet her?"

"Maybe."

Arianna stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. John laughed,

"Stop it, you're turning into Sherlock. He always does that."

"I always do what?" said a voice. They looked up. Sherlock had come back.

"Don't worry about it," Arianna said quickly. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at them. She winked at him, and John looked down.

"Let's get going," He said, standing up. Then his phone rang.

"Hello?" He paused as the person on the other end spoke, "Alright, I'll be there in fifteen." He hung up the phone, "That was work. I have to go in."

"They've been calling you in quite a lot lately," Sherlock said, annoyed.

"Yeah. Well, there's been an illness going around and people keep missing work. So I have to bring up the slack," he replied as they walked out of the station.

Arianna had a realization. That's why he had been out at work more often than usual. He wasn't really at work, he was with his girlfriend. She smirked slightly.

"Well, have a nice day at work. Hope you don't get sick too."

"Thanks."

John hailed a cab and climbed in. She waved as the cab drove away. Sherlock had his sulking face on.

"Oh stop pouting. Now we can go home and be alone," she smiled slyly.

Sherlock grinned.

* * *

Arianna and Sherlock walked up the stairs, giggling and holding hands. Sherlock reached the living room first and his smile was immediately wiped from his face.

"Good afternoon Sherlock, I hope you didn't have any…" Mycroft smirked, "plans." Arianna's face fell as well as she saw him standing by the window. It seemed as if their fun was going to be cut short.

"No, I didn't. Is there something I can help you with?" Sherlock sighed.

"Not really no, there is just someone across the street that I need to observe, and your house is the perfect spot."

Sherlock rubbed his temples, "Don't you have enough security cameras for that?"

"This case is special. I felt it would be better to watch with my own eyes. And also, I thought I'd pay a visit to my _dearest_ brother." His smile grew larger and wicked.

Sherlock glared at him. Arianna glanced nervously between them.

"Uh… Maybe we should play a game or something Sherlock. I thought I saw cluedo on a shelf the other day."

Sherlock shook his head, "That game makes no sense."

"Are you kidding me? I knew how to play that game when I was seven!"

"That game is for the simple minded who know nothing about crime."

Arianna crossed her arms.

"Who'd have thought? Sherlock Holmes can't even get the hang of a little kid's game."

Sherlock glared at her angrily.

"Sure I can, it's just completely pointless," he snapped.

"I don't think you can. I think I'd beat you easily," she smirked.

Sherlock's eyes flashed.

"We'll just see about that."

Mycroft laughed.

"Something funny Mycroft?" Sherlock said angrily.

"Oh nothing. You two have fun."

* * *

"Sherlock, for the seventh time you can't interrogate the characters."

"Then how am I supposed to deduce who did it?"

Arianna sighed. This was even harder than she expected.

"Okay. How do I explain this? The point of this game is to study the other players. Not the characters in the game. You make deductions based on my actions. If you get good enough, you can win by only psychological warfare, and not even need to see many cards."

Sherlock thought about this for a moment. "I think I understand."

The game went much better for him then. But Arianna was playing easy on him, not making any tricks. After she decided that he had gotten a hang of the game she started making her strategy a bit more complex.

"Wait! If you have that room in your cards, why did you guess it earlier?" Sherlock asked, frustrated.

"Because I was trying to find out whether or not the person I think did it was correct. So instead of guessing all three randomly, I guessed two that I already had and a person that I didn't. So, if you could prove me wrong with one of your cards, it would have to be a person."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her.

Mycroft interrupted the game,

"I never would have known that you would be fooled so easily Sherlock."

Sherlock scowled at him,

"Are you nearly done spying on the neighbors?"

"Actually yes, I was just about to leave."

This surprised them both. They had thought he would stay forever. Arianna was relieved. Mycroft had barely even looked out the window. He just stared at them the entire time, his sharp stare burning through her. She had refused to make eye contact with him.

They sat silently as he left. When they heard the door close Arianna let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God. That was so awkward."

"Indeed it was. And now we can stop playing this dumb game."

"What? No way! I still have to beat you!"

Sherlock smirked,

"You shouldn't be so sure of your victory."

"Actually I think I should."

"Well, we'll see."

* * *

It was Sherlock's turn. Arianna knew everything. She just needed to wait until his turn was over and then she would be the winner. She smiled as his brow furrowed, looking at his cards. A few seconds later he made his call. Her smile grew, he was right about the person and the weapon, but he had guessed the place wrong. She showed him her card and smiled as she saw the realization dawned on his face. He had been so close to guessing correctly.

Arianna was going to take her turn when Sherlock went to grab the envelope in the middle.

"Hey wait!" she exclaimed, going for it as well, "It's my turn!"

Sherlock snatched it before she could and started to open it.

"Stop! That's cheating!" She jumped over the board at him to grab it from him. He held it away from her reach.

"No it's not. I know what the answer is so I get to look in the envelope," he said as she tried to climb over him and take it.

"Yeah! But only when it's your turn!" she struggled to get it but he was holding her in place and his arm was too long for her to reach.

"Well that's stupid. I don't want to wait if I know it already."

"That's what I had to do! But now it's my turn and I get to look in it!" she shouted, slipping out of his grasp and getting a hold of the envelope. They both wrestled to get the upper hand, tugging on the envelope so hard it seemed as if it would rip. Then, Arianna slipped, taking Sherlock down with her.

"Ah!" she cried as they both fell over, Sherlock landing on top of her. His breath caught and his ears turned red as he realized that he had landed between her legs.

"I… uh…" he stuttered, straightening his arms so that he was above her instead of on top of her. Arianna smiled nervously at him and he relaxed. He smiled back, leaning in to bring his lips to hers.

Arianna wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him closer, savoring his warmth and his taste. Sherlock's heart raced as he pressed against her, fire racing through his veins. Arianna pulled away to breathe, but he wasn't ready to stop. Breathing heavily he planted kisses down the nape of her neck, moving to her shoulders and chest. She gasped as he nibbled on her soft skin, and traced her collarbone with his tongue.

"Sherlock…" she gasped.

"Hmm…?" he said, continuing to rain kisses down on her.

"I… too much… please…" he was making her crazy, she couldn't even finish a sentence.

He stopped and looked at her, smirking.

"A bit sensitive are we?"

Arianna blushed.

"When did you turn into a freaking sexual animal? Who taught you all this?" When they had kissed for the first time he had been clumsy like a boy. But now he was good enough to drive her insane, his lips and tongue working expertly until she was completely beside herself. Light biting had always been a turn on for her, and he'd managed to master it somehow.

"I suppose I'm just a quick learner," he said slyly.

"Well I think you need to slow down a bit. I don't know if I'd be able to control myself if you kept that up."

Sherlock made a face,

"Who said you needed control? I'd be glad to hold the reigns for a bit," he smiled. Christ. What happened? He had gone from completely asexual to a sex crazed demon. She could see the hunger in his eyes. This wouldn't be such a problem if her resistance wasn't so weak. She was completely out of breath, and he had loosened her will power with his mouth on her neck. She was close to reaching the same animalistic state as him. His warmth pressed against her, sending shivers down her spine.

Taking her silence as permission Sherlock continued his assault on her neck, moving up to her jawline. He made his way up to her ear and bit lightly on it. Arianna felt her resistance melt as her insides turned to fire. Her hands wove their way into his hair and pulled him back to her lips. He met them eagerly. Her tongue traced his lip. His tongue came out to meet hers, exploring her mouth tentatively.

His hand was beginning roam as well. Traveling over her torso, memorizing every curve. His hand made its way down to the bottom of her shirt, sliding under it. His fingers traced over her soft skin, making patterns of swirls and circles over her stomach. Shaking slightly, his hand worked its way up, meeting the underside of her breast. He slowly ran his thumb across it. Arianna moaned into his mouth adding to the fire inside him. He needed more. But all these damn clothes were in his way. His fingers wedged their way under the wire in her bra, prying it open so they could get inside.

Arianna's hand flew to his and held it so that he couldn't get any further. His fingers squirmed in protest. Arianna broke away from his mouth, lightheaded but determined.

"Sherlock stop." She ordered.

He did as he was told,

"Why?" he exclaimed, frustrated beyond words.

"Because it's too soon. And I am definitely not going to go farther with you on the living room floor." She was surprised by her own words. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to stop him. Luckily she had summoned up the strength before he had continued. Although her body told her that she wanted much more, she knew that she would regret it later.

Sherlock frowned angrily, pushing himself away from her. He got up and sat in one of the chairs, bringing his knees up to his chin and staring sulkily at the wall. She couldn't believe her eyes.

"Are you seriously that mad?" Arianna asked increduously, standing up, "I mean, sure, part of me would love to have continued. But it just isn't a good idea. I don't want everytime we kiss to become some crazy, animalistic, hormone filled, clothes ripping fest! We need to take it slower. And I'm sorry that it upsets you, but you need to respect my decision."

Sherlock didn't answer, just stared straight ahead.

It hit Arianna like lightning. Had she been right all along? Was she really only an object of sexual desire to him? If he was refusing to talk to her, just because she hadn't allowed him to get to second base on the second time they kissed, was that all he wanted her for?

"I guess I thought you had kissed me because you liked me romantically… I'm sorry for misunderstanding. I hadn't realized that that was all you wanted from me." She held back her tears, "I won't make that mistake again." She turned to leave.

Sherlock caught a hold of her hand,

"Don't be stupid." He pulled her so that she was sitting on his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking and I overreacted. You are much more important to me than just a sexual outlet. If I wanted that, I would just go to Irene Adler. And trust me, I have no interest in her whatsoever," he paused; he wasn't very good at this whole feelings declaration thing yet, "The first time we kissed, I kissed you because I think you are beautiful and witty and brilliant and I couldn't go another second without you knowing that. But I couldn't get up the courage to just tell you with words. I was wrong to get angry, my mind was just somewhere else."

Arianna sat there silently.

"And… you're going to have to realize that this may happen a lot. I highly doubt I'm going to be very good at this. There will probably be many times when I can't tell you how I feel. Because this is all new to me. I hope you can be patient with me."

She sighed,

"I understand."

Sherlock buried his face in her hair,

"Thank you."

"Of course."

"So… uh... How long do we have to tone it down exactly?"

Arianna laughed and tilted her head up to gave him a small kiss.

"If I have to be patient, so do you. It won't be too long."

"Like a week?"

She laughed again,

"No, definitely longer than that."

"I think we both have different definitions of the phrase not too long."


	27. Jamie

_I know you guys have been upset that I haven't been updating every day like I used to. But I beg you to please remember that I'm only human. I thought it was a bit of a miracle to be able to spit that much out every day. I'm trying to spend more time on the chapters to improve quality a bit, because looking back there had been numerous typos. This chapter is also the longest one I've written so far. It's like eight pages in total. There are 128 pages in the entire story so far, which is really impossible for me to believe. I've tried writing things that I've worked on for months and hadn't gotten more than sixty pages. I'm really proud of this work and your reviews really mean a lot to me. I hope you don't stop reading because I update less often but I suppose that's your choice. I hope you enjoy this chapter :D_

Arianna was washing dishes in the kitchen when a pair of long arms wrapped around her from behind. She paused and smiled,

"Sherlock, John only went to get the paper from the café. He'll be back any second," she scolded halfheartedly. They had decided that it would be best not to tell John for the time being. Sherlock didn't acknowledge her protest, just nuzzled her neck, humming contentedly. Arianna laughed. He was like a cat, practically purring. She sighed. Fine, as long as it wasn't anything that would be hard to cover up when John came back up, she supposed she could allow it. It had been two weeks since the cluedo incident. Sherlock had then later challenged John to a match, to prove that he was competent enough to understand it. John had still won. But Sherlock had been close. It wasn't enough to keep his ego from decreasing quite a bit for a moment though.

Arianna continued to wash the dishes as they stood there, but stopped again when Sherlock started to place small kisses on her neck. She pushed him away as best as one can without use of their arms, making him let go of her.

"Nope. You know how hard it is for you to stop once you've started. We don't need John walking in on us going at it in the kitchen," she said sternly.

Sherlock had been doing relatively well with waiting. Although in the beginning it took a lot more force to stop him, he had gotten better at controlling himself over time. His newfound sexuality had manifested itself in the form of the impulses of a hormonal teenage boy. It seemed as if fifty percent of his emotions lately had been horny. And also like a teenage boy, he didn't really know what he was doing in the beginning. He was clumsy and uneducated, but he was quickly learning.

Arianna wasn't as into it as he was. Which came as no surprise to her. She was still different, after the incident. She enjoyed their heated kissing quite a bit, she just didn't have the same need for it as Sherlock did. It was almost like a good food, she enjoyed it when she was eating it, but she didn't feel the need to eat it all the time. Sherlock, however, had an ongoing craving. She sensed sometimes that it bothered him, the fact that she never initiated. She couldn't help it though. When she kissed him, it was usually simply to show affection. For the warm fuzzy feeling of having someone who cares for you.

It was Sherlock who needed the more animalistic side. She went along with it most of the time, wanting almost nothing but his happiness. He particularly liked to participate in such activities after he had a break through in one of his cases. He would burst into whatever room she was, ecstatic and victorious, as if his accomplishment had left him feeling very masculine and in need of an outlet for this feeling of macho-ness. And as long as John wasn't around she would gladly give him what he wanted. Unfortunately they were not alone today, so she couldn't allow any such extracurriculars.

He grumbled reluctantly and set his chin on top of her head instead, wrapping his arms around her again. She was the perfect height for this, a perfect chin rest. He teased her about it quite often about it, calling her a dwarf. But she insisted that she was perfectly average height, he was just extraordinarily tall.

"So, you get through that block in the new case?"

"No, I'm still stuck. So I came in here. Being with you helps me concentrate."

"I highly doubt that," she laughed. He hardly seemed able to think straight about anything when he was with her.

"No really, it clears my head. I think its your smell," he pressed his nose into her hair.

Arianna blushed awkwardly. Sherlock was very forward and frank, he didn't stop to think whether something would sound weird. There was nothing wrong with what he said really… It was just odd. She just wasn't really used to it.

"Uh… thank you? I think?"

Sherlock chuckled. Then stiffened as he heard the front door open.

"Sherlock! Arianna!" John called, "there's someone I want you to meet!"

Sherlock sighed and let go of Arianna, going and sitting on the arm of his chair.

"Who on Earth would I possibly want to meet that I haven't met already?"

* * *

The four of them sat awkwardly in the living room.

"Yes, Jamie is a radiologist at my clinic. We met in the coffee-room about a month ago," John said uncomfortably.

Arianna looked nervously at Sherlock. He was studying the woman silently. She could feel the fury rolling off of him. He was obviously insane with disbelief at the fact that he hadn't caught it before. He twitched a little at the word "month."

"Well…" Arianna said in trying to keep the mood at least a little cheerful, "It's nice to finally meet you. I've been wondering when John would finally bring you around."

Sherlock's eyes shot to her accusingly. She gave him an apologetic shrug. He was going to give her trouble about this later and she knew it.

The woman was very pretty. She had reddish-brown hair and blue eyes with an elegant pointed face. She wore very nice clothes and expensive looking jewelry. She smiled back shyly,

"It's nice to meet you too."

"So…Jamie," Sherlock said, putting his fingers together in front of his face, "Is it hard to have a career in radiology with Cytomegalovirus in your retina?"

The silence was deafening. John looked as if he regretted ever even considering that this would work out alright. Arianna closed her eyes and held her breath.

"I… How did you...?" Jamie stuttered.

"It's simple really-" he started. Arianna's eyes snapped open.

"Sherlock, stop," she said angrily.

"But-"

"Shutup Sherlock."

"I don't see what the-"

"That's it. Sherlock, come with me for a moment please," Sherlock started to protest, "Now." She said firmly.

Sherlock scowled and followed her out of the living room and into his room. When he closed the door behind him she said,

"You can't do that Sherlock."

"Can't do what? I was just asking her a question."

"Asking her a question about something that maybe she didn't want you to know! You can't just go blurting out people's personal issues like that! It might not be so bad if you chose to talk about things that weren't embarrassing or hurtful. But you always choose to point out people's insecurities in a very rude and hurtful way."

"You should have told me before that John-"

"Don't change the subject Sherlock! What you did was wrong! Now is not the time for you to show off how brilliant you are! How would you like it if someone came up and started pointing out all of my insecurities and hurt my feelings and embarrassed me?"

"Well they would have to answer to me, so I don't think they would dare-"

"Exactly! It's not okay! Just think of how many times you've done that to John! And then think of all the times John _hasn't_ punched you! I know I would have. I kinda wanna punch you now myself." Sherlock flinched as if he was afraid she would hit him.

"I don't see how that was embarrassing though! How am I supposed to know what I can talk about and what I can't?"

"How about this. Just assume that anything that she hasn't _told you, _is none of your business. Butt out of at least one aspect of John's life for once."

"Fine," Sherlock huffed.

"Good," she smiled, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, "Now lets get back out there."

They walked back into the living room and John and Jamie, who had been talking, became abruptly silent.

Arianna gave her a reassuring smile,

"Let's just start over. Okay?"

They made basic conversation for a bit. Sherlock was obviously bored out of his mind the entire time. But he behaved, so Arianna and John were both happy. When she finally left and John had come back upstairs from seeing her off, Sherlock rolled his eyes,

"Thank God that's over. I simply cannot stand such pointless small talk."

"Thank you Sherlock," John said sincerely. Things had gone much worse in the past. It was really Arianna who he should thank. He had no idea how she had managed to get him conduct himself in a courteous manner. She was a miracle worker. But he felt it would be best to let Sherlock take the credit, give him some positive encouragement.

Sherlock's face softened slightly. Though he hated small talk, and found it very difficult not to interrupt their unnecessary banter with his more intelligent questions and observations, he was glad Arianna had made him rethink his actions. He felt guilty for what he had done in the past. Not because he had hurt the women, but because he had hurt John. He also felt guilty that he hadn't noticed that John was in a relationship sooner. He had spent too much time on Arianna. Though he cared for her greatly, it still wasn't the same as how he felt about John. John had saved him and he had saved John in return. They were both exactly what the other needed. He had been neglecting John. He needed to change that. He would have to talk to Arianna about this, he was sure she would understand. Arianna always understood, and she would never ask him not to for her own wants.

That was the problem. Both John and Arianna were so damn willing to let Sherlock do whatever made him happy. They rarely thought of their own needs. If he got more attached to one, the other would never complain. It was a dangerous circumstance. He would have to find a way to balance them with almost no way of measuring their needs.

What had he done to earn people who cared for him this much? Nothing at all, honestly. He was simply lucky. It was pure luck that he had come across a man who needed to share a flat, with a taste for danger almost as strong as Sherlock's, and a loyalty that was unmatched by anything Sherlock could ever have expected, a man who only saw the best in him, even though he rarely saw it himself. And it was luck that the student he requested would be such a brilliant, caring and understanding work of art, who had a knack for saying and doing exactly what a person needed without any verbal sign that they even needed it, a girl who somehow managed to completely unravel his earlier judgment of love and lust and friendship, like it was an old worn out sweater.

He was not a good person and he knew it. He hardly cared about morals or laws. The only thing that kept him from a life of crime like Moriarty was that it was inconvenient. He enjoyed doing the chasing, not being chased. It was an inconvenience being arrested. He simply had no interest in it. He was sure that if he found it exciting or interesting, he would have no problem investing his time in it, morals and virtue thrown out of the window. He was cruel and unsympathetic, having no concern for people's feelings or emotions. But how had he managed to earn the loyalty of John, a complete opposite of him in those aspects? Why had John not turned and run like everyone else? What made him want to stay with the beast that all others ran from or spat insults at, ready with pitchforks and torches to drive him away?

And John had tamed the beast. He had smoothed Sherlock out. Sanded his rough edges, pulled him from his dark cave of solitude. The pitchforks didn't seem nearly as sharp with John at his side. He forgot sometimes how grateful he was.

By the time Arianna came around he was quite a bit more sympathetic because of John. It made a bit more sense that she would become friends with him. She was forced to live with him, making it common courtesy to be polite and amiable. And since she had turned out not to be a complete idiot he was a lot nicer to her than he would be to any normal person. But it was when she had come to care for him as she did now, it was a surprise just as big as when John had become his friend. Sure, Molly had fancied him for a while now, but somehow it was as if she didn't know him as well as Arianna did. Molly's feelings for him were mainly based on attraction, she found him physically appealing and that was about sixty percent of it. The other thirty was a combination of the fact that he was so extraordinarily smart and interesting, and he constantly flirted with her to get what he wanted. And flirting for long enough can usually elicit emotional attachment from the subject, just as he had done.

But Arianna didn't have much of a sexual identity anymore. Physical attraction was probably her thirty percent. She cared for him on a deeper emotional level that Molly could ever reach, due to her timid nature and the tiny amount of effort it took to shut her down. Arianna was too forward and determined to be brushed aside. And she had been determined to dive down into Sherlock's being and understand him, unlike anyone had ever done before. She had succeeded. Two years ago, if someone had presented the state of his life presently to him, he would have never even believed that all this was possible.

"Sherlock are you listening?"

Sherlock's head snapped up,

"Yes of course."

"Then what was I saying?" John asked disbelieving.

"That you wished I had behaved as such in previous encounters with your various lovers?"

"Not even close. And don't call them lovers. They were my _girlfriends_."

"Alright then what were you saying?"

"Jamie is coming over again this Saturday for dinner. And yes, you have to be there."

Great. Now that he had been amiable this one time, it meant that he would have to continue this forced acquaintanceship? Maybe he regretted this a bit more than he thought. He sighed,

"Only if nothing more important comes up." _Please_ let something more important come up.

"That'll be nice, I wonder what I should make…" Arianna said thoughtfully.

"I'm sure whatever it is, it'll be delicious as always," John said, happy that at least one of them was going to cooperate willingly. He was sure that if Arianna wasn't present, today and Saturday would go much worse. She held the balance in the household. There were no more arguments over who would get milk or clean or cook. Sherlock ate regularly now so that John wouldn't have to worry about him not getting enough nourishment. She somehow managed to get him to behave, like she had him on a leash. There was an overall sense of peace that had settled over them since she had become a vital part of 221B. Besides the usual chaos of Sherlock's career of course.

It was November now and it had been snowing quite a bit. After a few days of continuous snow had stopped, Arianna had insisted that they go outside and make a snowman. John hated having to tell her that the snow rarely collected on the ground enough for a snowman in London. She looked absolutely heartbroken. Upon seeing her face, Sherlock immediately disappeared for over two hours. When he returned he took Arianna outside with him, where she and John discovered that he had somehow miraculously collected a large enough pile of snow to create three snowmen. Arianna looked like a five-year old on Christmas morning. The three of them then made snowmen replicas of themselves. Arianna was very good at it, having come from a northern state in America. When they were finished they had surprisingly accurate snow representations of themselves. Sherlock's significantly taller than the others and wearing an old scarf, John's with a newspaper in his hand and a very realistic pattern drawn on by Arianna that resembled a jumper, and Arianna's with a huge smile on her face, large earrings, and a large heart on her chest that John drew and Sherlock agreed was definitely needed for an accurate portrayal of her. Sherlock and John had fallen silent as she stooped down and added a small rose carved in near the bottom of the middle section. But she acted as though she didn't notice. When they were done they laughed, proud of their work, took pictures and then went inside for tea and hot chocolate. (Arianna made Sherlock drink some of hers first to make sure he hadn't drugged it.) The fireplace soon thawed out their toes as they sat and talked until two in the morning.

Arianna was relieved that Sherlock had kept his mouth shut. She almost didn't expect him to obey her request. He was hardly one for taking orders. She wasn't feeling very optimistic about Saturday though. Hopefully as long as he kept eating, it would keep his mouth busy enough to not make any snide remarks. Sometimes she felt like the older one, like a mother or something. She could hardly imagine the flat before her, when they didn't have anyone to cook and clean and sort out quarrels between Sherlock and John. It must have been a huge mess. Everything was relatively organized now. Sherlock had his own drawer in the fridge for his body parts, a cabinet for his chemicals (after Arianna almost ate something that was definitely _not _powdered sugar), and Arianna had bought another cabinet for the bathroom to put her things in, so that Sherlock's things could go in the original cabinet instead of cluttered on the counter. Sherlock complained a bit at first, but John was definitely a lot happier.

Sherlock had also been insisting that he and Arianna play a lot more board games now. It was as if after the cluedo incident, he assumed that all games led to such activities. He was disappointed to find that this wasn't the case. But he enjoyed playing with her. John had played with them at first, but was utterly destroyed. Sherlock's and Arianna's games were an extreme battle of intellect. Some games, such as battleship or chess, just involved quite a long period of time staring at eachother, calculating, and then the game ended in only a few turns. John just couldn't keep up with that sort of thing. And he especially had no interest tonight when Arianna suggested that they play scrabble. Sherlock didn't seem very enthusiastic about it either, until she came up with the idea of multilingual scrabble. Then John knew for sure that he would just be watching.

Sherlock and Arianna sat in the floor, surrounded by different language dictionaries. If one person thought that the words the other used didn't exist, they would check the dictionary. Sherlock's words were all mostly in Russian, German, and French. Arianna's were Dutch, Spanish, and Latin. John watched quietly, stunned as ever at the raw intelligence they both possessed. There were only two words in English. Both, of course, were very long and complicated words that John had never heard of. The score tipped from Sherlock's to Arianna's advantage constantly. When one was in the lead, it was often by over a hundred points. But it could quickly turn in the opposite direction with only one or two moves. John honestly had no idea who was going to win. But the board was quickly filling up. Arianna was ahead by one hundred and twelve points, and it seemed that Sherlock didn't have much room to make any good words. Then he smiled and put down his letters.

UMWELTVERSCHMUTZUNG

He had put VER at the end of Arianna's word UMWELT and connected it to it the word SCHMUTZ, and then added the UNG at the end, giving him two hundred points by hitting three different triple word score stars.

"No way! How the hell did you get that?" Arianna exclaimed, "Have you been holding those letters waiting for it or something?" There was nothing she could do anymore. The board was out of usable space. She tipped over her tile holder as Sherlock grinned victoriously.

"You win this time," she muttered. He won their games seventy percent of the time. She may be smarter than John, but she would probably never be smarter than Sherlock.

"Well, that was exciting," John said, getting up and stretching, "I'm off to bed. Don't stay up too late."

"Night." Arianna said, sulking.

"Don't be such a bad sport," Sherlock smirked.

"Oh whatever, whenever I beat you, you throw a fit like a child and demand a rematch."

Sherlock made a face at her and she returned it. They got up to put the game and the dictionaries away. While Sherlock slid the Russian dictionary onto the shelf he asked,

"Arianna?"

"Yes?"

"I think that perhaps when I go in to the police station to bother Lestrade for a case… that I would like just John to go with me."

She was surprised at first. Then she realized that he was still upset with himself for not seeing that John had a girlfriend himself. He probably wanted to spend more time with him, and it made sense. She already felt kind of bad for creating a bit of a rift between them.

"Of course, that's fine," she smiled. Sherlock almost scowled. Of course it was fine. Everything was fine with her. It was almost angering how little she cared for herself. He later learned that when he was sick, she hadn't slept at all. She had sat by his bedside as he came in and out of conciousness, giving him medicine when he needed it, talking to him in his feverish babblings. He hadn't even remembered any of it. It was John who had told him about how she hadn't gotten any sleep. One of these days she was going to get seriously hurt, worrying more about others than herself.

Arianna saw the change in his face. "Uhm… I'm confused. You want to spend more time with John, but you're upset that I'm okay with it?"

He brushed off the question, "It's complicated."

"You are so difficult," she said, her brow furrowed.

"And your lack of difficulty is even more difficult."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"It does in my head."

She laughed, "Well, it also makes sense in your head that cats have a secret conspiracy against you. So that's not saying much."

"All species of the Feline family are vicious evil creatures."

"Just because one tried to run off with your scarf." She had to keep Sherlock from strangling that cat.

"It's my favorite. It was a gift," he sniffed.

"It's my favorite too," she smiled. It was true. Something about that scarf was very sexy. Even though it covered up more skin. Usually covering up more was more modest, but not with that scarf. It went perfectly with his eyes and his skin tone. She often wondered who it was a gift from, but he would never tell her when she asked.

Sherlock smiled back. He knew this of course. Ever since the beginning he noticed a significant change in her when he put the scarf on. This reaction was also partnered with his jeans and when his shirt had the first three buttons undone. She often complained that it was unfair that he could evaluate, measure and know every single thing that he did that she liked. She didn't have the same advantage. He never seemed to like her any more or any less when she wore different things.

"Because I find you appealing beyond possible improvement no matter what you wear," he had told her. She had flushed bright red and said he was being ridiculous, but he could see that she was pleased. She wasn't the same as she had been since he had taken the antidote for the steroid. She was less muscular and had rounded out just the slightest bit. Sherlock liked it better. Her face had been just a bit too angular before, unlike her natural rounded and heart shaped face that was much softer and warmer looking. Her round soft body fit perfectly against his sharp structure.

Sherlock walked across the living room to her. Arianna saw the look in his eyes and shook her head, stepping back.

"Nope. I need to go to bed too. That game of scrabble made my brain dead tired, I'll need to recharge it."

"Maybe I could join you," he said, his voice deep and seductive, "I don't really think you'll need to use your brain much."

"Definitely not. John is right upstairs. And having my brain would probably be better, so that I can be coherent enough to know when to stop."

Sherlock sighed impatiently, "You're always so concerned with _stopping_."

"I'm sorry that have a sense of virtues."

"Tch. Virtues are for the sentimental."

"Well that's me. Arianna the sentimental. A hopeless romantic."

"Please?"

"Goodnight Sherlock," she said, turning to go to her closet to change.

When she closed the door behind her it only took a few seconds for Sherlock to knock on the door.

"Yes Sherlock?"

"Do you need any help?"

"No I don't need help."

"Are you sure? I think you do."

"I swear to God Sherlock if you open that door I'll smash your nose into that giant brain of yours."

"Why does it matter? I've already seen you naked."

"That was different. It didn't matter then."

She pulled her nightshirt over her head and opened the door. Sherlock jumped back to avoid being hit in the face.

"Go to bed Sherlock. _Your_ bed."

"I used to sleep in your bed all the time," Sherlock pouted.

"Yeah, that was before you turned into a fifteen year old boy whose brain decided to take a holiday down to his pants."

Sherlock couldn't really argue with that. He did indeed seem to have the impulses of an adolescent boy.

"Fine," he said, frowning.

Arianna smiled at him. "Good." She got up on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. Sherlock turned his face at the last second so that it would land on his lips. She pulled away, shaking her head but still smiling. "Good night Sherlock."

"Goodnight."


	28. Falling

_Not much to say. Just hope you enjoy it :] Thanks again for all the reviews!_

It had been quite a while since they had heard from the mystery rose man. Arianna and John had been relieved, but it seemed to put Sherlock on edge. He didn't trust it, the sudden radio silence. It was a deafening and spine tingling absence. So when the next morning Lestrade had called him before he had even come to the station to demand a case, saying that the rose had appeared again. He looked far too cheerful as he put on his coat and told John to get ready.

"Is Arianna not coming?" he asked as he put his shoes on.

"No, I've got some work to do," she said, smiling. It seemed as if she was always smiling. It was a genuine surprise for John to look at her and see anything different on her face. Even when she was upset or tired, she always wore a smile on her face. He wondered what on Earth must go on inside her head if she was such a pro at hiding it. As they say, practice makes perfect. But what did she have to hide from them?

Before they left, Sherlock gave her a gun and a taser.

"Just in case." He remembered what had happened last time they had left her alone while dealing with the rose.

Arianna's smile faltered for a split second.

"A gun _and _a taser?"

"Tasers are better for accuracy when your attacker is very close. And it would be better to not get blood on the carpet. Only use the gun if completely necessary. It would be best to keep them alive. But do what you need to keep alive."

"Right. Taser if they get close enough. Shoot if they don't or the taser isn't enough."

"Hopefully you won't have to use either," Sherlock said, grimacing.

"Yeah…"

Sherlock gave her an awkward hug, not wanting to make it too familiar with John standing there, and sneaked a kiss on the top of her head.

"You two come back safe okay? Don't go off and get hurt and miss dinner!" Arianna called as they left.

"Wouldn't dream of it," John called back.

As Sherlock and John stepped out into the crisp air John looked at Sherlock suspiciously and asked,

"Is there something going on that I should know about?"

"I'm sure that if there was something I thought you should know, I would have told you," Sherlock replied cooly. John took note that had said what _he_ _thought_ John should know. They probably had different ideas of what he should know.

"Let me rephrase that, is there anything going on that I don't know about?"

"I'm certain that there are many things going on that you don't know about."

"Sherlock, stop being a smart ass."

"Apparently not being a smart ass is something I am incapable of."

"Fine. If you want to be like that I'll just be forward. What is going on between you and Arianna that I don't know about?"

"Nothing at all," Sherlock said calmly. Damnit John. This was supposed to be about them, not Arianna. That was the entire point of leaving her at home.

John didn't believe him. Contrary to what Sherlock always said, he wasn't an idiot. He had noticed the way that everything suddenly got quiet when he entered a room, or the way that Sherlock didn't seem to care that he was going out on dates often. He used to throw fits, or sulk, or tag along uninvited. But he didn't feel like pressing him for more information now, so he just let it go. He would definitely be bringing it up again later though.

* * *

Arianna was sitting on her laptop when she heard the door bell ring. She stiffened and felt her heart jump to her throat. No, it's okay. Calm down. It wasn't some homicidal maniac outside, most likely. She took a deep breath and went downstairs, and put the gun in her back pocket. Holding the taser behind her she cautiously opened the door.

"Oh, it's you," she sighed, relieved.

"Uh… yeah. Were you expecting someone?" Jamie asked shyly.

"No, it's complicated. John's not here though."

"Oh, I was just walking by and I thought I'd stop in and say hi, but if he's not here…"

"You can come in if you want," Arianna smiled. She kinda wanted to get to know this woman. And it would be nice to talk to another girl for once. "I was thinking about making a pie. You could help. John really likes it when I bake."

"Uhm. I guess, if it's not too much trouble…"

"Yeah, and then when John comes home he'll have a beautiful woman and a delicious pie."

Jamie smiled nervously and stepped inside,

"Is that a taser?"

"Uh yeah, don't worry about it." She turned to go up the stairs and Jamie followed behind her.

"And is that a gun in your back pocket?!"

"Welcome to 221B."

* * *

John bent over, gasping for breath in an alleyway. Sherlock leaned against the wall beside him. God he loved this. He knew how abnormal it was that he enjoyed all these near death experiences. But the rush was so beautiful it made him dizzy. Or maybe that was just the lack of oxygen flow to his brain. Either way, he was as giddy as a school girl.

"That was a close one," he sighed.

"Indeed it was." They had been chased by an angry mob of at least fifteen knife-wielding members of some underground drug organization. Usually Sherlock stayed to fight such people, but even he decided that the numbers were just a bit too uneven. They had finally lost them by going some crazy round about way that involved rushing through three different buildings (one very surprised couple didn't even have time to speak before they had gone from coming in the window to running out the door) and multiple alleys and almost getting hit by cars at least five times.

"Where to now?" John said, the fire in his lungs dying down.

_Does the cat know how to swim?_

"The docks."

* * *

Arianna slid the pie into the oven. Jamie was nice enough. A bit quiet though. She heard a slight sign of dis-ingenuousness in her voice and sometimes saw it in her face. She must be uncomfortable. Maybe Arianna was too pushy about the pie thing.

"I'm sorry about the other day, by the way. With Sherlock."

"Is he always like that?"

"Unforunately yes," Arianna frowned, "I'll try to keep him polite as best as I can. You just be good to John and I'll do my best to keep him too distracted to bother you and John or tag along on your dates," she smiled reassuringly.

"Does Sherlock ruin John's relationships often?" Arianna's smile faded. Jamie's tone was a bit odd. She couldn't quite pick it out.

"Uhm, well kinda. But you can't necessarily blame it all on him. A big reason John hasn't really been able to hold a stable relationship was because they felt like Sherlock was more important to him. John is very likely to put everything on hold for Sherlock," Arianna paused, maybe she shouldn't tell her everything. It wasn't really her business to say. "Long story short, being in a relationship with John takes a lot of patience that apparently his last girlfriends didn't have."

"Oh." The way she said it sounded disconnected. As if Arianna had just told her what day it was.

"But like I said, I'll try to keep him distracted enough so that John will have some more time with you."

"Alright."

Arianna didn't like this at all. Maybe it was a bad idea to invite her in. She just seemed so uninterested. But oh well. If John liked her, she was probably a really sweet person. She just must be acting odd because an almost complete stranger invited her in to make a pie with her.

Yeah. That must be it.

* * *

John stood on a dock, surrounded by boats. Sherlock had gone off into one of them and made John stay out here as a look out. He paced back and forward. This was private property. If Sherlock got him arrested again he would kill him.

"Freeze," said a voice from behind him. He felt the cold tip of a gun touch the back of his head. Putting his hands up he sighed. Great.

* * *

Sherlock came out of the boat,

"I was right, there's no-" he stopped. John was gone. "John?" he called. Damn.

His phone buzzed. It was a text from a blocked number.

_London Bridge is falling down._

He looked around. The tower bridge was a quarter of a mile away. He could run and make it in time, right? Definitely.

He sprinted away.

_John._

* * *

Arianna was taking the finished pie out of the oven when her phone went off. It was a picture message. She opened it and her heart stopped. It was a picture of John with a gun pointed at him. He looked pretty high up, and there was water behind him.

_If a doctor falls off of a bridge and there's no one there to save him, will he make a splash?_

What? The message was a very bad rendition of the philosophical question, if a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? She had never liked that question. But surely Sherlock was around to save him. Shit. What if Sherlock was in trouble too?

"Is everything alright?" Jamie asked,

"No, not at all." Arianna closed the message and hit her number 4 speed dial, putting it up to her face. It only rang twice, "Mycroft?"

"Yes?"

"I have a quick question, can Sherlock swim?"

"No?"

"Shit. I need some really fast transportation, now."

"Where do you need to go?"

* * *

Sherlock reached the bridge within five minutes. He looked around for John, panic rising in his chest. Then he heard a shout from high up above him,

"Sherlock!"

He looked up, John stood all the way on top of the platform between the two towers of the bridge. Traffic continued beneath him, completely oblivious. He had his hands on his head and Sherlock could make out two other men behind him. There was no way he would get up there in time. They were going to push him off. And he couldn't even swim!

Then he heard the gun go off and none of that mattered anymore. He watched as John fell, almost in slow motion.

"JOHN!" he screamed. John hit the water with a giant splash. He took his coat and scarf off, ready to go in and save him. All fears of drowining wiped completely from memory. He got ready to jump in when he heard someone from behind him,

"Sherlock stop!" It was Arianna, she was running up to him, Johns girlfriend following closely behind her. He was going to ignore her and jump in when she grabbed his arm.

"Sherlock you can't swim!"

"But, John!"

"I know!" she pushed him back, taking her own jacket off . The year before, she had spent a summer life-guarding at a small neighborhood pool. She had never needed to save anyone, but in her classes they had to practice on real people. She hoped it would be enough. But she knew that she would definitely have a better chance than Sherlock. Realizing that her jeans would also probably weigh her down she took them off. Then, ignoring Sherlock's protests, she jumped off of the ledge and dove into the water.

The cold struck her like a hammer. She came up, gasping. It was as if she could feel her blood freezing in her veins. She could hear Sherlock screaming at her. But she had to get to John. He had been in the water for at lease fifteen seconds now. Though it seemed longer, everything was going by so slowly in her mind. She took off towards where she had seen him land.

* * *

John hadn't expected them to shoot him. He had assumed they would just push him. It all felt so surreal as he was thrown back from the force and toppled over the edge. A small, "Oh," came from his lips as he felt the world tilt. The feeling of the bullet going through his shoulder was shocking, yet so familiar. He remembered the last time he had been shot. It had been chaotic, gunshots everywhere, people shouting, shooting, dying. This was different, almost peaceful, as he continued to fall. It was like flying, the air pushing against him like a soft cushion as the top of the bridge got farther and father away. He could hear Sherlock screaming. He didn't see why Sherlock was so worried. There was nothing wrong. This was nice. He felt light as a feather. The pain in his shoulder was outshone by the tickling feeling he had in his stomach and mind. He was almost giddy.

Then he hit the water, and the cold and the force of him smacking onto the surface broke him out of his reverie. Agony ripped through his shoulder and his lungs as the breath was knocked out of him. He barely managed to get a gasp of air before submerging, getting a bit of water in as well. The dark water swirled around him, bubbles surrounding him. It was almost beautiful. He could feel his consciousness slipping from the pain and the impact from hitting the water. He saw spots as his brain began to suffer from lack of oxygen. The surface was so close, but he couldn't get his limbs to move to swim towards it. He wasn't sinking much, he had always been a floater. The water was turning red with his blood. His awareness was fading and his thoughts were just flashes of words and hazy pictures.

_Sherlock._

Everything went black.

* * *

Luckily John hadn't sunk much when Arianna reached him. She took a deep breath and dove down into the dark water. Grabbing him around the middle she kicked, slowly pulling them up to the surface. Her lungs burnt as they got closer. Luckily he wasn't a sinker, otherwise she may not have been able to get him up. Finally she reached the surface, gasping for breath. She couldn't say the same for John though. He wasn't breathing at all. But, thank god, she was able to find a slight pulse in his neck. Blood was everywhere. She looked around, she had jumped off of a ledge. There was no place for her to take him. Panic bubbled in her throat. She needed to get to a surface so she could give him mouth to mouth. And she didn't know how long she would be able to hold them both up in this frigid water. Her brain raced frantically. There had to be something she could do.

Then she saw a small boat coming towards them. It was a miracle sent from God himself. No, even better, it was Sherlock. He pulled the boat up beside them and reached out to them. She gave him John's wrists and he took hold of them, pulling him out of the water. She clung to the side of the boat as he lay John down on the floor of the boat. He turned back to get her as well but she said,

"No! He's not breathing. He needs CPR. Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Sherlock nodded and did as she said. A red puddle was already spreading around John. Arianna moved around to the back of the boat, where the ladder was. Shaking, she climbed into the boat and found herself next to Jamie, who was staring as Sherlock pumped John's chest. She looked slightly in shock. But something was off. She didn't look worried so much as… disappointed. Arianna didn't have time to think about that though. She went to John's side and started to unbutton his shirt from the bottom, where Sherlock's hands weren't pushing. When he took them away to press his mouth to John's she quickly undid the rest of his shirt and pulled it open. The sight made her nauseated. Ignoring it, she looked around for something to stop the bleeding. Luckily there was a towel nearby. She grabbed and pressed it against the wound with her trembling fingers. She could hardly feel them, and her feet were in the same condition.

"Please John, wake up," she said, tears collecting in her eyes.

There must have been something watching over them that day, because it was then that John started coughing forcefully, water coming out of his lungs. His throat and shoulder stung as he continued his fit of hacking. His eyes fluttered open to find Arianna and Sherlock's faces over him.

"Ouch," he croaked.

Sherlock let out a huge sigh and put his forehead on John's good shoulder. Arianna laughed in relief. She took his hand in hers and squeezed tightly. Her hands were just as cold as his, and they could barely even feel each other. Her teeth were chattering now.

Sherlock looked at her, worried. Now that John was better he remembered that she was most likely going into hypothermia as well. He rushed to look in the compartment of the boat to find blankets. Unfortunately there was only one. He came back out and threw it over John. He looked at Jamie, who still looked like she was in shock, but relieved.

"Keep the cloth pressed on his shoulder and try to keep him warm," he ordered her, "And call an ambulance as well."

Then he took Arianna away from John, ignoring her weak protests, and set her down against the wall. He took his trench coat and wrapped it around her. Then he started to unbutton his shirt.

"Why are you taking your cloths off?" she stuttered through her trembling blue lips.

"Because it is the most efficient way of sharing body heat," he said, shrugging his shirt off.

He sat down next to her and pulled her onto his lap, adjusting his coat so that they were both inside it. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her close to his chest, his breath catching as her freezing cold skin touched his.

Sherlock's skin was like fire against hers. It burned as he pulled her closer. She almost wanted to pull away from the pain. She had preferred the numbness. As she began to thaw though, the warmth didn't hurt as bad. Her nose and lips were still frozen, so she turned her head to press them against Sherlock's neck. He jumped a bit, and then held her even tighter. She could feel the worry radiating off of him.

"You're an idiot," she mumbled.

"How?" he asked, surprised.

"You were going to jump in and go after him. If you had, you would have drowned too. I would have lost you both." She pressed her face harder against him, her eyes clenched shut.

"That's how I felt when you went in."

"At least I can swim."

"Yes… Thank you for that."

"We need to get John to a hospital."

"Jamie has already called the paramedics, they should be here soon."

"You should go keep him warm."

"He's got a blanket and Jamie."

"I have a feeling that Jamie isn't trying nearly as hard to keep him warm as you would."

"Can you just shut up and think about yourself for once?" He said angrily. Arianna grew still.

"If I only thought about myself… John would be dead right now," she said quietly, "So no. I won't ever worry about myself if there's someone else who needs me to worry about them more."

"Why do you have to be so… good?" That's exactly what she was. Just, good. Right down to the core. She wasn't caring just because it was considered appropriate by society, but because she wanted to be. He almost the opposite of her in that aspect. He was an entirely selfish creature.

"Because if I wasn't, I would be very bad. I'm always on one extreme end of the scale. I can't be in the middle."

"You used to be different from how you are now?" Sherlock was surprised. He couldn't imagine an Arianna who was uncaring.

"I used to be in a bad place… I hated everything and I hated myself. I had this mind frame where I would think, 'If I can't be happy, why should I bother trying to make other people happy?'" She frowned thoughtfully, "Then one day I changed my mind. I decided that if maybe I made people happy, that I would finally have a good quality. And I found that making other people happy actually made me feel good, so I kept doing it. Eventually I grew to hate myself less because I could truthfully say that I brought something useful to the world. I didn't really think it made me a good person, I still have bad thoughts sometimes, but I felt like I had more worth. Eventually it just became a habit to always think about others. And not thinking about myself was just a given, because I never liked myself anyways."

Sherlock was finding this hard to process. He couldn't picture Arianna not being a ray of sunshine, always happy and trying to make everyone's day better. He also couldn't see why she would ever think she was worthless, as smart and beautiful and talented as she was.

"You like yourself now though, right?"

"I think tolerate is a more accurate word. I don't dislike myself anymore though."

"I guess that's good…ish." He understood what she meant. It was hard to like himself when everyone told him that what he was was wrong. But he didn't dislike himself.

Arianna had stopped shivering. She pulled her head away from Sherlock's chest.

"You're all wet now," she frowned.

"I'll be fine."

"You should go check on John. I'm warm enough now."

He sighed, there was just no changing her. He got up, wrapping his coat around her again. He knelt beside John, who was curled up against Jamie. Sherlock checked his watch. Shouldn't the paramedics be here by now?

"You called the paramedics, didn't you?" he asked her.

"Yes, they said they would be here as quickly as possible."

Sherlock frowned, it had been ten minutes. Then his phone buzzed from in his pocket.

_I've got people everywhere._

Anger sparked in him. The paramedics weren't coming. But the man was wrong, he didn't have people everywhere. He put the phone to his ear after dialing the number,

"Mycroft. I need you to bring medical professionals to the tower bridge."

"Couldn't you just call the hospital?" Mycroft said impatiently. The tower bridge was where Arianna had gone though, and this worried him. But he wasn't going to let Sherlock know.

"The call was intercepted."

"Is she alright?" Sherlock was surprised. It almost sounded as if Mycroft cared.

"She's fine. It's John. He's been shot. Also a chance of a concussion and hypothermia."

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

* * *

When Mycroft and his men arrived, Sherlock had parked the boat back at the docks again. They put John on a stretcher and took him away in an ambulance. Arianna and Jamie had gone in with him, but Mycroft had insisted that Sherlock ride along behind with him the car.

"I'm glad she got there in time," Mycroft said, looking out the window.

"How did you know?"

"She called me, asking if you knew how to swim. When I told her no she told me she needed transportation."

"How did she know to come?"

"I don't know. You'll have to ask her. Either way, you're lucky that she did."

"I know."

"And where did you get the boat exactly?"

"I hot-wired it."

"Of course you did."

* * *

John had to go into surgery to get the bullet removed. Sherlock and Arianna sat in the waiting room anxiously. Jamie had to go into work, she told them to have John call her when he came out. They held hands tightly, Sherlock's thumb brushing back and forward over her hand.

"How did you know where we were?" Sherlock finally asked.

"Whoever did it sent a picture of John to me."

Sherlock's head snapped up in attention,

"Let me see it."

"Okay," she reached into her pocket and pulled her phone out.

"This was sent ten minutes before I got there."

"Why would they wait that long?"

"Because they wanted me to be there, to go after him. So that I would drown as well."

"Then why would they text me?"

"Maybe they expected you to not get there soon enough, and then have to see us both die." His grip tightened on her hand as he thought about it. How much mental torture where they going to try to put her through?

"Or maybe they didn't mean to kill John at all," she said thoughtfully, "Maybe it was a warning. Just think about it, they shot him in the shoulder. It would have been much more foolproof if they had shot him in the head or chest. Yeah, I think it was a threat. They wanted you to watch both me and John almost die, to remind you of what they could do. If they had just killed him, you would have hunted them down to you last breath, and they knew it."

She was right of course. But that didn't make him feel any better. This was the second time this man had almost taken Arianna from him, and now he had involved John. This man should have known that this would only increase the need in Sherlock to hunt him down. He would just have to be more careful with John and Arianna. He'd keep them close at all times, or at least protected. He knew Lestrade would be willing to protect Arianna, no question.

Before he could say anything though, a doctor came out and said,

"John Watson?"

They both abruptly stood. The doctor smiled at them,

"This way," they followed him out of the waiting room, "He's still asleep from the anaesthetics, but he should be awake soon."

He led them to a room where John lay asleep. He wore a blue hospital gown and had an IV stuck into his arm. His chest rose and fell slowly as they went to his bedside, both worried and relieved.

"We'll just have to run a few tests when he wakes up and take a look at his X-rays, and if everything turns out to be alright he'll probably be able to go home tonight," the doctor told them.

"Thank you," Arianna said. The doctor nodded and left. Arianna sighed and sat down in the chair next to the bed. She watched Sherlock as he stood there, his face creased with concern. "He'll be fine, Sherlock," she told him.

Sherlock snapped out of it and said, "Yes, I know." He ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath.

Arianna could see that he was a lot less calm than he was letting on. She got out of her chair and went to him, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"Thank you, for saving him," he said quietly.

"No need for thanks," she smiled, going up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"I knew it," a voice croaked from the bed. Arianna spun around, apparently John had woken up.

"Knew what?" Sherlock said innocently.

"That something was going on between you two."

"John, I think you're imagining things. Maybe your medicine has gotten to your head. Or it could be the concussion."

"Oh shut it, I'm not hallucinating," John snapped.

"You have the most inconvenient awakening timing," Arianna laughed. Sherlock just stood there quietly, his face a mixture of fear and slight shame.

"It's okay, you know," John said, seeing the look on his face, "I could never expect any sort of relationship that you ever got into to be normal. It's not the most abnormal thing you've done. As long as you realize the way society views such things and take it into consideration. And as long as you two aren't… doing anything, it's fine I guess."

Sherlock looked relieved, "No need to worry about that. She's been very keen on following that rule," he said lightly. Arianna flushed slightly. John didn't know whether or not this surprised him. Earlier he would have assumed that it would be the other way around, but Arianna had changed Sherlock in many ways.

"Good. You two better not start acting coupley now that I know. I will not refrain from telling you to get a room."

Arianna giggled, "Whatever you want John. As long as you start coming back for dinner on time like you said you would."

"Of course."

* * *

When John was released from the hospital a few hours later they all took a cab home. As they stepped in the door Arianna said,

"Oh yeah! I forgot Jamie and I made pie!"

"Jamie?" John said, confused.

"Yeah, she stopped by to say hi earlier and I invited her in. She was there when we got you out of the water. Don't you remember?"

"I vaguely remember what happened. Why wasn't she at the hospital?"

Sherlock helped John up the stairs.

"She had to work. She said to call her when you woke up. I forgot to tell you, sorry."

"It's okay, I'll call her in the morning."

"I had hoped you would be home in time so that the pie would still be warm," Arianna sighed.

"I'm sure it's delicious either way."

"Nothing like a good pie after you've shot," Sherlock said, smiling.

John's laugh was cut short by the pain shooting through his shoulder. Sherlock's grip tightened around his waist protectively as they reached the top.

"Hopefully we won't need those pies often though," Arianna said.

"Yeah, hopefully."

* * *

It had been a long time since John had had nightmares about being shot. Vivid and frenzied they had tore through his mind at night, leaving him waking and gasping for breath. He always woke up believing that they were real. They seemed real, more real than anything. Then after Sherlock had faked his death, he started having dreams about that. His dream would just be a repeated cycle in which he would see Sherlock falling over and over again. Sometimes they would be mixed together, watching Sherlock fall as gunshots fired in the background, or watching soldiers drop dead around him, every single one of them with Sherlock's face. These dreams were much worse. Sometimes he would wake up and find that he had ended up on the floor.

The dream he had that night was like an insane fever dream, a mass of confusion and chaos. Gunshots surrounded him as he felt himself falling, the bridge getting smaller and smaller. But he never hit the water. Instead he just kept falling, swirls of red and black rolling in front of his eyes. He looked to his side and saw Sherlock, who was falling beside him. But Sherlock was smiling.

_Isn't this great?_ He said, _It's like flying John. Except there's a destination._

Then John looked below him. Instead of the water, there was a sea of roses. The red petals rolled like giant waves, thorns dripping with black blood. It was terrifying yet beautiful. He looked back to Sherlock, but he was gone. In his place was a terrorist, with a gun pointed straight at him. The man pulled the trigger, and the bullet came at him in slow motion. It hit him with a thundering boom. He looked down at himself to see that he was cracking like glass, light shining through the cracks, hot as fire. Opening his mouth in a silent scream, he fell into the sea of roses that swallowed him up, scratching him with the thorns, the smell bombarding his senses. The red and black was interrupted by a vision of Sherlocks's broken and bloodied body, just like the day he had jumped from the building.

John woke suddenly, gasping for breath. Something rustled beside him and he almost jumped out of his skin. Then he felt the familiar thin frame slide under the covers next to him. Sherlock curled up to him, wrapping an arm around his middle and pressing his face to John's chest. John sighed and put a hand on Sherlock's head, burying his fingers in his curls. No words needed to be said. He smiled contentedly and closed his eyes.

He slept peacefully through the rest of the night.


	29. Cleaning

"Where's Sherlock?"

"He's out buying milk."

John nearly choked on his tea, "Really? Sherlock, buying milk?"

He had been slowly recovering for the last week. The pain medication kept him comfortable, but a bit weak. Arianna and Sherlock had been taking care of him devoutly, Sherlock dropping all cases and refusing to answer Letrade's calls. Jamie had been visiting often as well. Arianna had been right; now that John was around, she was much warmer. She helped Arianna with the cooking sometimes, and gave John his medicine when Sherlock wasn't around to insist that he do it instead (which was only twice).

"Yep, I didn't even have to ask him to," Arianna smiled.

"Wow, maybe I should get shot more often."

"No." Jamie said quickly, sitting on the arm of his chair.

"Yeah, definitely not," Arianna agreed.

"Fine," John sighed, "I'll just make sure to take a long time to heal. I've got to say, this whole being waited on hand and foot thing is quite nice."

Arianna rolled her eyes, "Don't push it too far. In the words of Mrs. Hudson, 'I'm not your house keeper.'" She mimicked Mrs. Hudson's tone perfectly.

John laughed, "Of course."

The doorbell rang then and Arianna got up, "I've got it."

She was surprised to see Sherlock when she opened the door.

"Oh, I thought it would be someone else," she said, confused.

"Expecting someone?" Sherlock asked, stepping in and closing the door behind him.

"No, I wasn't. Why did you ring the door bell instead of just coming in?"

"Because I wanted you to have to come answer the door."

"Why would you-" she was cut off by Sherlock's lips pressing against hers.

"Oh," she said as he pulled away, then laughed, "Sherlock Holmes, who would have guessed you'd turn into such a corny romantic?"

"Definitely not me," he said, laughing as well.

"John almost went into cardiac arrest when I told him you went to go get milk."

Sherlock smirked, "It is definitely not one of my favorite things to do."

"I'd gathered as much."

"You know what is one of my favorite things to do?" he said, leaning in again.

"I think I might have a guess," Arianna smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and met his lips.

His free hand slid down to her waist and pulled her closer against him, as his tongue traced her lower lip. Her mouth opened to let him in and their tongues met, tips touching before exploring further. As their kiss became more heated, Sherlock became frustrated with only having one hand. His hands were begging him to let them roam. Dropping the grocery bag to the floor he moved both hands to her arse, drawing circles with his thumbs. Arianna hummed contentedly and snaked her hands into his coat, running her hands down his chest.

With John hurt, they hadn't had much time alone. They both needed this, Sherlock especially. This whole abstinence thing had really been getting to him. Their alone time before had let him blow off steam, keeping his need relatively containable. But lately there had been no outlet for his urges and he thought he would go mad with want. He could feel himself losing control as he cupped her round bum, struggling to keep his concentration on holding back. He was hanging on a thin thread, thinner than floss. Then she ran her hands across his chest, the fabric of his shirt thin enough to make the sensation push him over the edge, and he snapped.

Arianna yelped with surprise as she was suddenly lifted into the air with startling ease. Sherlock spread her thighs so that her legs wrapped around his waist and pushed her not too gently against the wall. She gasped as his mouth traveled down to that spot on her neck that melted all the bones in her body. Christ that felt good. Damn him for knowing her body so well.

But this was a bad idea. Very bad idea. A total of three different people had the possibility of walking in on them right now.

"Sherlock," she panted. He didn't respond, just continued downward, traveling to the bottom her shirt's neckline and nuzzling the place where her cleavage just barely peeped over the top. "Stop…" she protested feebly, "Mrs. Hudson…"

"Out," Sherlock said coarsely , planting rough kisses on her breasts. He pushed her harder against the wall, shifting slightly so that she could feel his heat pressing between her legs. Two different emotions flashed through her, hot lust, but also a deep terror. Images of men whom she certainly wanted nowhere near her body, kissing her breasts just like this, flashed before her eyes. Unfortunately, or fortunately given the situation, this terror overrode the lust and brought her defenses back to their previous strength.

"John," she said a bit more forcefully, but still in a hushed tone, "he'll be wondering why it's taking me so long to answer the door."

Sherlock practically growled with frustration as he pulled away. She could see him considering disobedience.

"Sherlock, please," she pleaded, eyes wide. She saw him recognize the anxiety in her voice and face. The primal fire in his eyes died down to his usual cooler, logical, coherent gaze. Arianna sighed in relief and rested her forehead against his, "thank you."

Sherlock set her gently down on the ground and stepped back. "I'm sorry…" he mumbled. The pure terror in her eyes had brought him crashing back down to reality. He had almost hurt her, ripped her old wounds open again before they were completely healed. If he had continued, he would have been just as bad as those men. No, even worse. She trusted him. If he broke that trust and hurt her in that way, he would give her a whole new kind of wound that may take even longer to heal.

Seeing the shame and regret in his eyes, Arianna stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. "It's alright," she said, "It's not your fault that I'm-" her voice broke. Broken, that's what she was. "I would have loved to have… I just…" she didn't know how to continue that sentence. " The circumstances are something you have to adjust to. You shouldn't have to, I'm sorry. It's not fair to you." Damnit. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn't she just be normal? Fate was a cruel bitch. She didn't have the right to demand that Sherlock be so patient and careful, but he was anyway. He was so kind and understanding, even if he was incredibly frustrated. She knew that many other men wouldn't have the same control as he did, and his situation made it harder for him to do so.

Sherlock rested his forehead on the top of her head. His mind was still a tangle of self loathing and heat. He was disgusted the by the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. He couldn't formulate an eloquent enough sentence. Instead he said, "Wrong."

"What?"

"Wrong… Wrong. Wrong. Wrong."

"Sherlock, you can't blame yourself for everything," she sighed.

"Neither can you," he replied firmly. Arianna pulled away. They both just stared at each other, both too stubborn to give in.

"Arianna?" John's voice called down the stairs, "Everything alright down there?"

"Yeah," she called back, "it's just Sherlock."

John was silent for a few moments. "…Okay…" he said slowly. "Did he need help carrying the milk in or something?" The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

"Yes," Arianna called back, "he's horribly weak from the traumatizing experience of going to the grocery store. You had better be grateful!"

John laughed.

"I told you he'd wonder," Arianna said quietly, "we're lucky he didn't start worrying sooner and come down to check on me."

"He already knows," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I don't see why it would matter."

"I highly doubt he would approve of you having me up against the wall like that. And I don't really think you would want him to see that," she raised her eyebrows and nodded towards the sizeable bulge in the front of Sherlock's pants.

The tips of Sherlock's ears heated. He didn't know why though. He had never been embarrassed by bodily functions before. But something about this was more personal and intimate, and slightly shaming. So she was right; he didn't want John to see it.

"Also, things like that are private, I don't want people intruding on that."

Sherlock nodded, his brow furrowing. How was he going to hide it? Arianna could see his distress, so she smiled reassuringly and said,

"I'll take the milk, you can go to your room and uh… calm down. Get rid of your problem or whatever." She stifled a giggle.

Sherlock nodded again, relieved. Arianna took his face and pulled him down to plant a kiss on his forehead, then picked the milk up from the ground and proceeded upstairs. He watched her as she ascended, captivated by the swaying of her hips. He shook his head, scrunching his eyes shut. God, he was a wreck. What had this girl done to him? His mind was filled with all these cluttered, heated, fantasies, impulses, and emotions. He imagined what John would have said,

_You just need to get laid._

But then of course John didn't approve of Sherlock and Arianna engaging in such activities. And infidelity was out of the question. So imaginary-John's opinion was useless.

He needed to clear his head, badly. He did enjoy this thrilling feeling of romance and lust, but he felt a slight twinge of guilt, as if he was betraying his work. His past self would have probably beaten him senseless if he saw the way he had ended up.

He sighed and took his coat off, draping it over his arm and holding it in front of him to hide his, as Arianna put it, "problem."

John watched Arianna emerge from the stair case, looking slightly disheveled and anxious. She took the milk into the kitchen and put it into the fridge. A half a minute later Sherlock came up as well, looking equally disheveled and a bit on the embarrassed side. He held his trench coat in front of him like a shield. John tried his best not to smirk. He never thought he would see the day when Sherlock Holmes trying to hide an erection. It was better than he could have ever imagined. That must be why Arianna had been down there for so long. He tried not to be judgemental. Sherlock may as well be a teenager, and Arianna was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, so it wasn't as if he was taking advantage of her. He wondered why Arianna looked so shaken though, like she was more scared than embarrassed. Surely Sherlock hadn't forced himself on her.

Sherlock could tell that John saw right through him. He looked down at the ground and started swiftly towards his room.

"Where are you going?" John said. Sherlock's eyes narrowed, he had hoped John would be above teasing him over this.

"To my room. Don't come in. I need some time in my mind palace."

John snickered a bit, "Alright. Your mind palace. If that's what you wanna call it."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. John knew about his mind palace. Why did he seem skeptical all of a sudden? He didn't dwell on it though, just hurried to his room and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

It had been a while since he'd come here. Everything was cluttered. Emotions and impulses and bits of fluff that had no business being in there crowded the rooms. He'd tried to explain to John what his mind palace was like. John had laughed at the idea of a place where all of Sherlock's thoughts and ideas had a solid shape that he could move and sort and clean. Childish, he had called it. Sherlock hadn't spoken to him for three days after that.

It had started when he was ten years old. He was angry as a kid, full of bitterness and hatred. That was back when it bothered him that he was different. The other children called him strange, they laughed and whispered behind his back. It made him furious beyond words. He would constantly get into fights, break things, have giant fits and temper tantrums, throwing things at Mycroft and his mother.

One day Sherlock had gotten himself into a fight with three other boys. They had beaten his face almost beyond recognition, a swollen mass of blue and purple. He came home from school like this, clothes muddy and ripped, backpack in the same state, a look of determination barely visible on his puffy face. Mycroft had seen this and sighed sadly.

"You've got to learn to control your temper," he said.

"I don't see why I have to go to this stupid school. Everyone there is an idiot," Sherlock huffed, his speech slightly garbled through his bloody lip.

"I'm sure they are, but that doesn't mean you can just go around punching anyone who makes you angry."

"I don't. Everyone makes me angry. I don't punch everyone. I don't punch teachers. Even if they punish me for correcting them when they're wrong." He hated that. What good were they if they were teaching people false facts?

Mycroft ran a hand over his face,

"You need to get all of this anger out of you Sherlock. It's not healthy. And frankly, its obnoxious. You're going to end up seriously hurt one of these days if you don't learn to control it."

"How am I supposed to do that? It's not like its something physical that I can just toss out of my brain!"

"Just try sitting down, taking a deep breath, and trying to find the source of your anger. Take the emotion, and give it a body. Picture it in your head. Then maybe you'll be able to toss it out."

Sherlock had rolled his eyes and went past him to go up to his room, ignoring his mother's exclamation over the state of his face and clothes. He slammed the door behind him. Stupid Mycroft. What did he mean, find the source of his anger? He knew the source, the stupidity of people around him. Why did they insist that there was something wrong with him? They were the ones with the problem. Surely they must realize how idiotic they all were.

He sat on his bed without changing and sulked. His face hurt. He closed his eyes. Mycroft wanted him to picture in his mind what made him angry. He imagined all of the people in his class, the boys who threw things at him during class, the teachers who told his parents that he probably would never graduate middle school, the girls who giggled and pointed at him when they thought he wasn't looking. Especially Susie Grutt. The other girls had dared her to kiss him. He had been hanging upside down from the monkey bars when she had pulled him down, making him fall sprawled out on the ground. Then she had grabbed him and kissed him.

"What was that for? Gross!" he had exclaimed, disgusted.

"Oh whatever!" Susie had said scornfully, "I'll probably be the only girl to ever kiss you. You should be grateful. Freak!" Then she had run off and told her friends very loudly about how awful it was. She said that he had tasted like anchovies, and had slimy cold lips like a frog.

Yes. She definitely was an important part of the group in the picture. He smiled to himself and envisioned them all being hit by a bus. That was something that his many therapists that his mother had signed him up for, before finally giving up, would say was unhealthy, or unnaturally morbid. Then there were the ones who talked to him like he was three and said that they were, "bad and mean thoughts." He made the bus back up and hit them too.

He had a feeling that wasn't what Mycroft had meant. Running them over in a bus in his head didn't make him any less angry at them. But if he was supposed to envision where the anger was in his mind, wouldn't he need to make his mind a visible place? Fine. He would do that. But it had to be something cool. He concentrated with all his might, giving his mind a form. He smiled at his work.

It was a pirates' cave, filled with crates of jewels and weapons, mounds of gold and silver. All of the treasure was his knowledge. It glittered magnificently in the torch light as he marched around, boots clicking on the stone ground and echoing throughout the cave. He leaned over and scooped a handful of coins up. Whispered voices swept around him. There were too many for him to hear it clearly. He dropped all of the coins except for one and tightened his grip on it.

_The average person speaks at a rate of 150-160 words per minute._

He smiled, dropped it, and picked up another. It was warm in his hand. A map appeared in front of him, a large cobweb of streets and names and buildings. It was a map of the area around his house. He held up his hand to touch it and the place where his finger touched glowed, light spreading like ripples on water. He dragged his finger across and the focus of the map shifted. He could control it. He zoomed out and was disappointed to find that his knowledge of streets didn't extend much further than three miles and his route to school. He would have to fix that later.

He looked around. If this was his knowledge, where was his anger? He expected it to be some monster that he had to slay, or maybe an enemy pirate. He paced the cave, going to the back where the ceiling started to slope down. The feather in his hat brushed the ceiling as he saw something lying on the ground. He picked it up. It was a wooden coin, absolutely worthless.

_The Earth revolves around the Sun_

That was something he had learned in school a while ago. He didn't see why it mattered though. Why should he care about something that would never really affect him? He didn't plan on being an astronaut. No wonder it was made of wood. He looked around for an exit to the cave to throw it out of, but there was none. He concentrated and imagined a pit that would swallow anything he threw into it. Suddenly a door appeared on the side of the cave. He went through it and found a hole, just like he had imagined. It was vast and dark, and it had a feeling of emptiness that seemed to echo through him. He looked down into it and saw nothing but darkness. Taking a deep breath, he held his hand over it and dropped the wooden coin. It fell into the pit. He listened, but he didn't hear it hit the bottom.

He went back into the main cave and started to search again, there had to be more coins made of wood. He found several of them, all holding useless facts. He tossed them all into the abyss. He continued to scour the cave but found no more wooden coins. Sitting down he frowned. How was he supposed to find his anger if he didn't even know what it looked like? That's when he heard a whisper to his left. Looking over he a spotted a large blood red jewel, around the size of a grapefruit. He got up slowly and went to it, picking it up. This wasn't like the coins, instead of one voice several came out, along with a sudden change in his emotions. It was filled with the idea that was buried in children from the time they were old enough to interact with others, that it was bad to be alone, to be different. It echoed with the fear of being hated and friendless.

_It matters what people think of you_

_There's something wrong with you_

_You have no friends, you're a freak_

_You should stop being so different_

Fear and hurt rose up in him, and from that sprouted anger. He wasn't a freak!

_Yes you are_

The longer he held it the more it hurt. He just wanted to be accepted. Why did they all have to congregate in herds of ignorance? Why didn't anyone want to play with him? It wasn't fair! He hated it. He hated them. The gem grew hotter in his hands. The whispered voices kept getting louder and louder until he couldn't take it anymore. He ran into the pit room and threw it forcefully into the hole.

And just like that, the voices went silent. He was suddenly calm, as if there was never anything wrong in the first place. The idea had vanished. Of course it had been wrong. He didn't need friends, he was much better on his own. He was special, not a freak. As he realized this a new gem started to materialize in the air in front of him. He reached out and grabbed it. It was a clear bright blue gem that was cool to the touch.

Alone was better. Yes, he saw it now. Now no one could hurt his feelings, because he just didn't care. He was invincible now. In the movies, it was always a weakness to have people that you cared about. The bad guy always ended up kidnapping or hurting them. If he had no one to care for, he was untouchable. He smiled and went back into the cave. He placed the gem on a cushion in the center of the cavern. This was one of the most valuable treasures in there. It was what would protect him.

As he got older and grew out of his phase of wanting to be a pirate, his cave turned into a mansion of sorts. About fifty different hallways, with twenty rooms each, all filled with different bits of information. He had sorted it better than when it had been a cave. Instead of piles of random coins, each room had a specific category, and each hallway had a broader theme. There was simply too much to let it stay unorganized. The main room held the gem of solitude. It was set in a gold frame in the center of the room. He would hold it often, to remind himself.

The mansion slowly turned into a castle as he grew in age and wisdom. That's when he had named it his mind palace. It seemed fitting. He was above everyone else, and therefore a king. In the throne room, the blue gem was set in the throne where he sat. He ruled this vast network of knowledge, he was the highest authority, no one ruled over him.

But he did not hold that place on the throne forever. In his early twenties, he had been introduced to cocaine and heroine. Then he had been pushed from it his place by the cruel white queen. She ruled over him with her needle fingers. His palace was covered in white snow, all the rooms were locked. He just sat in the throne room, helpless in the queen's sharp grip. He loved her and he hated her, adored and feared her. She smiled, her sharp teeth glinting, and caressed him, singing the sweetest and eeriest song as he drifted through the sea of white.

Then one day the queen was ripped from the throne. Mycroft had found him and forced him into rehabilitation. The palace was dark then, echoing with the need and hunger and tormented cries that seemed as if they would never end.

When his head finally became clear, his palace was almost in ruins. The battle with the cruel white queen had torn chunks from the castle and destroyed entire rooms full of information. It took him over a year to rebuild it all. During this time he met Greg Lestrade. It didn't take long for Sherlock to discover the thrill of solving cases. Finally, his abilities had an actual use! He solved things that trained professionals had been working on for weeks in only a few hours. People still hated him, and he still didn't care, but now he knew that he wasn't a freak. He had a purpose, just like everyone else.

The throne was occupied by a woman in black now, his work. She was the only thing that mattered. He was her servant, bowing at her feet. He promised that she would be the only one to ever sit in that throne. She was beautiful, she was his, and he was hers.

It stayed this way for years. It wasn't until he met John that that had changed. He didn't realize it at first, but John was slowly working his way into the palace. Soon he had his own room, filled with knit jumpers and jam. Then he occupied multiple rooms. One for what he liked, and one for what he didn't like. There was even a room reserved especially for all of the compliments he had given him. He could lay in the pile of sweaters listening to the the choruses of

_Amazing_

_Brilliant_

_Fantastic_

_Unbelievable_

For hours.

After they had first met Moriarty in the pool Sherlock was struck with a sudden fear. When he had first thought that John had secretly been Moriarty he had felt betrayed, hurt. Then later when he had realized that it was a trick, he was glad that he still had a friend. _Friend. _He had used the word friend. He didn't have friends. It was situations like this that proved why he shouldn't. He rushed to his room to go to his mind palace that night. He went into the throne room to find the gem, he needed to remind himself of his most important idea.

The gem was no longer set in the throne where he had last put it. He looked around frantically, surely it hadn't disappeared. The black queen pointed at a golden table in the center of the room. On it lay his jewel. He knew it was the right one, it's cut and and shine were exactly the same as before. There was only one problem. Instead of its bright blue, it was now a deep purple. With shaking hands he picked it up.

_It's bad to be alone_

No. His grip tightened on the gem. This was not okay. He raised it high so as to throw it on the ground.

_But its okay_

He stopped and listened.

_Because you have John_

He froze. The thought slowly sunk in. He wasn't alone. He could feel the idea, the emotion, washing over him. It didn't matter what people thought of him, it mattered what John thought of him. He wasn't alone. The drawbacks were worth the good feeling he got when he was with John. He was someone Sherlock could rely on. He heard movement behind him and slowly turned around. The queen was still in her throne, but beside her sat a new throne.

There sat a shining figure that seemed to be made of nothing but light. It wasn't a bright and painful light, but a soft and warm glow that drew him in. He walked towards it hesitantly. The light king smiled at him as he approached. Sherlock extended his hand as he got closer and the king mirrored him. Their fingers touched and he felt a warmth surge through him. If John was a feeling, an emotion, this was it. He could smell him, feel him, hear him.

John.

Now there was a hoard of completely new thoughts as he looked around him. He called this the arrivals room. This is where all of his newly acquired information waited until he came to organize it. There was a slot for things he deemed useless that transported to the pit, and there was a slot for other things which were sent out to the appropriate room. His palace had grown more efficient as he got older. He used to walk around to get everywhere. Now he could just think of where he needed to go and he would get there. He had also developed the skill of being able to observe multiple pieces of information at once and still comprehend them clearly. He could see them all in front of him, like the computer the man from that stupid robotic suit movie that John made him watch.

He looked around at the mass of information around him. This was going to take a while.

* * *

John knocked on Sherlock's door.

"Sherlock? You've been in there for three hours. Is everything alright?"

There was no answer.

"Sherlock, I don't want to walk in on anything I wouldn't want to see." Surely he wasn't still wanking in there. Still no response.

"I'm taking your silence as permission to come in," he slowly opened the door.

Sherlock sat cross legged on the floor with his eyes closed, completely oblivious to John's entrance. He didn't move as John got closer.

"Sherlock?" John shook his shoulder. Sherlock's eyes snapped open.

"Yes?"

"It's been hours. What have you been doing?"

"I told you I was in my mind palace," Sherlock snapped impatiently.

"So you were serious about that?"

Sherlock blinked up at him.

"Of course I was serious, what else would I have meant?" He asked, confused.

"I thought you'd be… wanking or something. You weren't?"

Sherlock looked at him in disgust, "Of course not! I would never-" he spluttered.

John laughed, shaking his head. "Really? It's perfectly normal."

"I am completely aware of how common it is for a man to masturbate, especially if I take from my observations of you. But since when have I been ordinary in such aspects?"

John turned red. Of course Sherlock knew every time he got himself off. He couldn't be surprised.

"Doesn't it hurt though? It's never comfortable to just let it sit like that." This conversation was starting to get too personal. John wished he had just left Sherlock alone in his room.

"It wasn't the most pleasant feeling. But I was concentrating on other things enough to be able to ignore it until it died down." Sherlock was starting to look annoyed.

"So, you've never…?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"No, I haven't. If I ever had such urges before I could have easily found a woman to exercise them on. I wouldn't need to take care of it myself. But, as we know, I never did. So why would I?"

"I don't know. I guess that sometimes I forget that you weren't a normal teenager like me," John chuckled, "Thought that maybe you had an ordinary childhood and that you grew into your weirdness."

"I assure you, I was born this strange."

"So, did you have friends?"

"No."

John stood silently for a moment. He tried to imagine going through his entire childhood with no friends, fifteen years of adulthood with no relationships. Sherlock must have been so lonely.

"Pity is not necessary John," Sherlock said, getting up, "I got over it."

Got over it, he had said. That meant that it had bothered him. John pictured a small Sherlock, sad and alone. He wanted to scoop him up in his arms and hug him tight, stroke his curls to let him know that everything was alright. Unfortunately he couldn't go back in time to do this, so he did the next best thing and wrapped his arms around the Sherlock in front of him now.

Sherlock froze at the unexpected gesture. Then relaxed and wrapped his long arms around the shorter man. John. His John. His first friend, his best friend. If the whole world collapsed around him, he knew that John would be there, the one stable thing in his life. John would always be there.

Arianna stepped into the doorway of Sherlock's room to see them embracing tightly. She smiled and backed out into the hallway. She'd let them have their moment. John had been there first after all. Not just to the room, but in Sherlock's life. She may be Sherlock's… lover, or whatever she was, but John would always be more important. She knew this. She didn't mind. John had been there for over a year, they had been through much more than she and Sherlock had. It would be unreasonable for her to expect anything else. Sometimes she wondered if there was a part of them that was in love with the other. But now wasn't the time to worry about that.

For now, all was well.


	30. The Man in the White Suit

_Hey guys! Here's another chapter. It's the longest one I've done so far so I hope you like that. Enjoy!_

"Sherlock I'm fine. I assure you, I can make my own tea," John said sternly.

"It's only been two and a half weeks since you were shot-" Sherlock started, concern heavy in his voice.

"Yeah and I feel fine. It was just my shoulder. Nothing I haven't dealt with before."

"But-"

"Sherlock," John sighed, "I've been shot in the shoulder once before. I think I know how long it takes for it to heal. Not to mention that I'm a doctor."

Sherlock fell silent, mouth in a thin line.

"Makes me wonder…" John said, "Why did they shoot me in the shoulder? If they really wanted to kill me, why not go for a vital organ?"

"Because they wanted there to be something for me to save," Sherlock said tightly, "But they wanted me to fail. They wanted me to feel myself lose him, to think that I had a chance and then feel it slip through my fingers. They wanted me to always have that feeling of doubt, that maybe if I had gotten to him sooner, if I had been a good swimmer, that he wouldn't have died. My self-hate would outweigh my anger at them, and I would take it out on myself, instead of hunting them down." They were wrong though, if John hadn't have survived, he would have hunted that bastard and every single one of his minions until all of them were dead. Or at least until he was dead.

"Sherlock…" John said quietly.

"It doesn't matter though," Sherlock said quickly, "You survived. They failed."

"Yeah, thanks to Arianna."

"I don't think so…" Arianna said.

"What do you mean?"

"I think that they wanted you to survive. It wasn't a way of punishing Sherlock. It was a threat," she said, steepling her fingers in front of her face, a habit she had acquired from Sherlock. "They knew that Sherlock would hunt them down if they killed you. So, it was a warning, of what they could do. That's also why they texted me. They wanted me to almost die as well. They wanted to scare him by showing that they could kill both of us easily."

Sherlock was silent for a moment. Then, "Well surely they're bluffing. If they killed you both then the fact would still stand. I would hunt them down and torture them slowly."

"I think that before I came along that was true. But now, it's much easier for them to get leverage. Now that there is two of us, they can threaten us both. And if you don't take them seriously, they'll kill one of us. That way you'll know that they're serious, and you'll still have someone to protect. This is a really dangerous situation Sherlock…"

"Then we'll just be extra careful," Sherlock said sternly. He didn't like the way her voice sounded, like the beginning of a goodbye. It sounded as if she was about to say that they were better off with her and that she should go back to America. And he was not having any such thing.

Arianna sighed, "Yes, we will."

"You should start by locking your front door," came a voice from the living room. Their heads all snapped around in alarm. Mycroft stepped into the view of the kitchen.

John let out a sigh of relief, "Ever heard of a doorbell Mycroft? Or are those as scary as cellphones?"

Mycroft gave him a sarcastic smile, "It's nice to see you're doing well. I need to speak with Ms. Arianna," he looked at her.

"How come you never whisk me off anymore Mycroft? I thought we had something special," John said.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid Arianna is just a bit more cooperative than you've ever been. Also, she notices more. Overall a much better spy," he smirked.

"Let's keep in mind that the person you've hired her to spy on is in the room," Sherlock said, annoyed.

"You could always talk to me yourself," Mycroft said, "but you've never really taken that option. You've chosen this as the optimal alternative, just be glad that it's someone who likes you."

Sherlock made a face. Arianna stood, "Okay, let's just get this over with."

As they stepped out into the cold, a car parked along the curb's door opened.

"Can't we just talk out here?" Arianna asked.

"In there is the safest place. I don't want to be overheard, or interupted."

"Fine…" she got into the car. Mycroft came in and sat in the other seat.

"So…" he said, fixing his gaze on her, "I have become aware of a new development in your relationship with my younger brother."

"Of course you have," Arianna sighed, rolling her eyes. Was nothing private? Of course not. "You don't have cameras planted in the flat do you?"

"No, Sherlock would have found them and destroyed them. If it was that simple, I wouldn't need you."

She let out a breath of relief. Thank God. The idea of Mycroft spying on them while they… she shuddered.

"Trust me, I have no interest on looking in on such things," Mycroft said, smirking. "Speaking of which, have you two had sex yet?"

Arianna flinched. She hadn't expected him to be so forward with the question. Usually he used some sort of innuendo or something. Maybe he did it to catch her off guard on purpose.

"I uh… I don't think…"

"Come now, I'm not paying you to hide things from me."

"Fine. No, we haven't," she crossed her arms and looked down.

"My condolences," Mycroft said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Arianna looked up, confused.

"I had thought that my brother's impulses would lead to him being as eager as a pubescent boy. But apparently he is still afraid."

Arianna laughed, "No. You were right. He is definitely acting like a hormonal teenage boy. It's insane. We haven't… because I said no."

Mycroft looked surprised for the first time since Arianna had met him. "And why is that?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "This is about Sherlock. You don't need to know what's inside my head. All you need to know is that I said no."

Mycroft studied her silently.

"It's no big deal. Don't worry about it," she said, "Anything else you wanted to know?"

"Yes. You haven't noticed anything suspicious about the woman who has been keeping John company of late, have you?"

"Not really. I thought she was a bit weird at first, like she was maybe pretending to be in love with John…" She frowned, "But I think she was just shy. Not to mention she was probably in a bit of a shock from the sudden exposure to our lifestyle."

"I have yet to do research on her, seeing that I have been busy lately and she just recently introduced herself into Sherlock's world. Before then she wasn't anything worth worrying about," he said thoughtfully, staring off into empty space. "I'll have to check up on her."

"You do that," Arianna said, straightening, "Are we done here?"

"Yes you may leave."

"Thanks," she opened the door and got out. Her breath clouded in front of her in the cold December air. She closed the door behind her and sighed as the car pulled away. Her life was insane. Five months ago, she would never have believed that this could happen to her. Getting paid thousands of dollars to spy on a semi-famous detective that she was living with, having that detective be much stranger than any one she had ever met and apparently asexual, and then finding herself in a relationship with him and defying everything that was ever said about him, was definitely not what she had expected from her trip to London. She had thought her life was complicated before. Things had been so much easier. She realized that now.

But she wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

"So, I assume that Mycroft knows about us," Sherlock said quietly. Arianna had allowed him to crawl in bed with her, on the terms that they didn't take part in anything further than cuddling. Sherlock had curled himself around her from behind, his body long enough to make a plenty large enough nook for her to snuggle into.

"You assume correctly."

"What sort of details did he ask for?" He said, trying to sound nonchalant. But she could hear a bit of something sharp in his voice.

"Nothing really…" Arianna muttered. She didn't really want to tell him.

"Arianna. Tell me the truth."

"He…" she sighed, closing her eyes, "He wanted to know if we had…"

"Had sex?" he finished for her.

"Yeah…"

"And what did you tell him?"

She opened her eyes, confused, "I told him no of course."

"Oh."

"Oh?" she turned around, "What would you want me to tell him? Yes?" Sherlock looked away. She sat up and took his chin, making him face her. His eyes were tinted with shame.

"Sherlock I don't understand. Why does that bother you?"

"Mycroft has a history of teasing me for my sexual inexperience," Sherlock said tightly, "It's not something I enjoy. And if he was expecting it…" his brow furrowed, "he'll assume that I'm afraid, that I'm weak."

"Sherlock, I told him that it wasn't you. I told him that it was because I didn't want to. He is completely aware of your… uh, sexual growth."

This didn't seem to make Sherlock feel any better. He closed his eyes.

"He'll still find it humorous. Even after discovering lust I still haven't managed to bed a woman. Especially since I am romantically involved with one. How weak I must seem, how unmasculine…" he faded off, self-consciousness clouding his face.

"You're worried about your masculinity?" Arianna asked incredulously. "Sherlock, you are plenty masculine enough. I'm not saying no because you failed to seduce me, or because you aren't man enough to make me want you. I said no because I have problems of my own that are completely outside of your control. You know how I feel about you. Hell, you know what I thought of you before I even wanted you romantically."

"I had made deductions from your behavior. Deductions are not always certainties," Sherlock said, opening his eyes and piercing hers with his gaze.

Arianna didn't believe that for one second. It wasn't like Sherlock to have self-doubts, or to care what others thought of him. It didn't seem that anything could bruise that ego of his. But apparently this did. She'd always assumed that he knew from observation how much he cared about her, maybe she needed to be a bit more verbal. He was always showering her in compliments after all.

"Well," she said placing her hand on his, "I know for _certain_ that you are brilliant, and brave, and caring," she leaned over him closer, "and strong, and gorgeous," he lips hovered a mere two centimeters away from his and were slowly getting closer, "and definitely _very_ sexy." She paused, her lips a hairbreadth away from his, and stayed there. "Completely masculine." Sherlock discarded his restraint and tilted his jaw up, raising his lips to meet hers.

The corner of her mouth pulled up in a slight smile as he pulled her closer. She hummed contentedly as his hands moved down her back. Then, he grabbed her by the waist and moved her so that she was on top of him, as if she were as light as a feather. His thin frame really did no justice to his strength. She placed her knees on either side of his waist and pressed into him as he wound his fingers into her hair. So much for no more than cuddling.

She took her lips away from his and ignored his sounds of protest, making a trail of kisses along his jaw line and down to his neck. Normally Sherlock was the one to do such things, but she was in control tonight. She bit lightly at the base of his neck and smiled smugly at the small gasp it elicited from him. He pushed his hips up, grinding against her. Damn, he really got worked up easily. Afraid that this might be going a bit too quickly, she started to raise herself away from him. But Sherlock wasn't having any of that. He grabbed her hips again and brought her back down forcefully, savoring the warmth that surged through him. Arianna could feel his length throbbing against her, hard and warm. Damnit. Usually this is when she would make him stop. But she didn't want to leave him blue-balled like she had quite a few times before. She always felt so bad, causing him that much discomfort when she didn't follow through.

She sighed. _Time to man up_, she thought. Ignoring his protests she lifted away again with more force. She could see the disappointment in his eyes, thinking that she was calling quits. She smiled and kissed him. As she did, her hand started sliding down from his chest. When it reached its destination, she gently stroked through his pants with her thumb. Sherlock broke away and looked at her with surprise. She winked at him before bringing her hand back up to the waistband of his pants, wedging her fingers under the elastic and snaking her hand in. His breath caught as she firmly wrapped her hand around his member and rubbed the tip with her thumb.

"A-a-are you sure?" he stuttered, gulping.

"Absolutely," she smiled. Then she slid down, pulling his pants and underwear down as well. Sherlock's erection stood at full attention. It was long and thin, just like his body. It was sort of fascinating actually. She had seen it once before, but it was only for a split second and now she was much closer. The head already glistened with pre-cum as it strained upwards. But she wasn't here to observe. She took a deep breath and licked it slowly from base to tip. Sherlock gasped at the sensation that shot through him. Arianna kissed the tip of his cock before putting her lips around it. Her tongue swirled around the head. Sherlock moaned. She let go and looked up at him.

"You're going to have to be a bit quieter than that," she said, "You don't want to wake John."

He bit his lip and nodded. But then she lowered her head again and took even more of him into her mouth and he wondered how she could possibly expect him to do so. He could feel himself getting higher and higher as her mouth enveloped him, so wet and warm. It was almost a drug of its own, the bliss that swept through him so much like the chemicals he had once injected into his body. Why on Earth hadn't he done this before? If only he'd known. His hand found its way down to her head and he gently stroked her hair.

Sherlock didn't last long, which wasn't much of a surprise for Arianna. He was new to this after all. She could hear him getting closer as he moved his hand from the top of her head, keeping a piece of her hair twisted between his fingers. His breathing became shallow as he felt an unfamiliar fire in his lower stomach. It built and built, until finally his muscles tightened suddenly and he could feel cum spurting into her mouth. He practically saw stars as he climaxed, not knowing if he was making noise or if the gibberish he was hearing was just inside his head.

His breathing slowed as he steadily came down from his peak. He looked down at Arianna, who smiled up at him and crawled back up next to him.

"That was…" he stopped, there honestly wasn't a good enough word to describe that. He settled for, "incredible." He still felt light-headed.

Arianna chuckled. "I figured as much. You were making quite a bit of noise at the end there. I'm glad."

Sherlock looked down. His cock hung limp now, completely spent. There wasn't a hint of cum anywhere though.

"You… swallowed it all?" he asked, slightly amazed.

"Well yeah, I didn't want it to get all over the place and make a mess," she said lightly.

Sherlock made a face, "Doesn't it taste odd?" He pulled up his pants.

"Nah, it wasn't so bad."

"Oh…" he stared at her silently for a bit. Then he cleared his throat, "Well… uh… thank you."

She smiled, "My pleasure." He frowned when she said that. She hadn't actually derived any pleasure from that. He felt a bit guilty.

"I feel as if… I should return the favor…" he said quietly, "It wouldn't be right to make you do that and get nothing out of it."

Arianna laughed, "No I'm fine. This was about you. I'm just happy that you're happy. I'm not nearly as sexually frustrated as you, so I don't really need it."

"Are you sure?"

"Completely." She got closer and lay her head on his chest. Sherlock sighed and wrapped his arm around her, nestling his fingers in her hair. The orgasm had left him with a slight buzz. The feeling washed back and forward over his body like waves in the ocean. A happy sleepiness settled in his chest and he was asleep within minutes.

* * *

John had walked into the living room plenty of times and found Sherlock and Arianna sleeping together before. But that was before they had been together. Before, they were positioned like two children at a sleep over, close enough to be friendly, but not inappropriately close. Sherlock would sometimes have his arm around her protectively, but it had never suggested anything past comforting her.

Now he came into the living room and found them in bed together, looking completely like a couple. Arianna was lying on his chest with her arm around his middle, her leg drawn up and splayed over him. Sherlock's hand rested on her head, fingers entwined in her hair.

John sighed. He really didn't feel like doing this. But someone had to act like the responsible guardian for once.

"Okay you two," he said loudly, reaching over and shaking Arianna's shoulder. She woke with a start, groaning as he took her arm and pulled her into a sitting position. "Sherlock, you too."

Sherlock woke up and sat up suddenly, slamming his head into Arianna's. The collision sent her head flying forwards. She clutched the sore spot on the back of her head, a pounding resonating in her ears.

"Ow!" she cried. "What's going on?" She was still half asleep and her eyes were barely open.

"You two need to get up so we can have a talk," John said firmly.

Sherlock blinked, dazed. His forehead throbbed. "You're upset," he said groggily.

"Amazing deduction Sherlock," John said sarcastically. He pulled a barely coherent Arianna out of bed and stood her up, "I highly doubt that you mother would approve of this. We seem to have forgotten lately that you are someone else's child that we are taking care of. If you were at home, do you think your mother would be okay with you sleeping in the same bed as your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend…?" she said slowly.

"Yes, that's what he is, isn't he?"

"…I suppose. It just sounds weird. I don't think boyfriend is the right word..." He was right though. Her mother would throw a fit over her _living_ in the same house as her boyfriend, let alone sleep in the same bed as him. Especially if she knew what they had done last night. Actually, her mother would probably throw a fit at the idea of her even _having_ a boyfriend that was in his twenties. Yeah, it would probably be best to keep that a secret from her. Anyways, by the time she went back to America, she would be eighteen, and then her mother wouldn't have any say so in who she dated. "but I guess you're right."

John was relieved. But Sherlock's expression was quite the opposite.

"Sherlock," John said, "I don't really want to do this either, but I've got to draw the line somewhere. Hell, I'm pretty sure her mom would have never signed her up to be a detectives apprentice. Look at all the danger she's gotten into. We've been really reckless with her, when there's someone back home waiting for her to come back. I just think we should be more responsible with her."

"Fine," Sherlock huffed sulkily.

"Good," John said, running his fingers through his hair. He felt like he was their mom or something. "What does your mother think you do over here anyways?"

Arianna avoided eye contact, "Well… to tell the truth. She thinks I attend school every day and that you guys are a happy couple… She doesn't know about anything. If she did, there would be no way that I'd still be here."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah…"

That sounded awful to John. He couldn't imagine being young and going through a traumatizing event like that and not being able to turn to your parents. Poor thing.

Arianna felt guilty. She didn't want John to have worry about this.

"I'll go make pancakes," she said, going into the kitchen. John chuckled. Whenever Arianna felt guilty she always made something for them to eat to apologize. And since she quite often blamed herself for things that really weren't her fault, she ended up making apologetic food all the time. John was afraid he was going to start losing his shape. But he could imagine the look that would form on her face if he tried to tell her to stop, and he didn't want to deal with that. She and Sherlock had perfectly mastered the sad puppy face. Arianna was a bit more convincing though, because there was usually a strong chance that she was actually upset and that the face came naturally. Sherlock was obviously always faking it. Not that it made it any less likely that John would do whatever he wanted.

The doorbell rang. John went to get it.

"It's Lestrade," Sherlock said, "He'll let himself in." John sat down, and sure enough thirty seconds later they could hear Lestrade's footsteps coming up the stairs.

"Hello Sherlock, John," he said, nodding.

"I'm proud of you Lestrade. You managed to solve that last crime all by yourself. How ever did you manage?" Sherlock said, smirking.

"No thanks to you," Lestrade grumbled, "I called you twelve times."

"I was busy," Sherlock said lightly.

"Right. Well, something else came up and we think it may be linked to your rose man. I really hope you catch him soon. London is starting to go up in flames."

"Alright, we'll go down there now. After I get dressed," Sherlock said, standing up. Luckily Lestrade said nothing about the fact that Sherlock had been sitting on Arianna's bed.

"Wait what?" Arianna said, coming from the kitchen, "We're leaving?"

"Yes," Lestrade said, his expression growing warmer, "there's another case related to the gang."

John smiled to himself. Arianna always had this sort of effect on people. Everyone just seemed to like her. Her warmth never failed to reach people and draw them to her. At least, if she wanted them to that is. It was a completely different story with Agent Donovan and Anderson. It made cases much easier, such as when they were asking victims or witnesses or friends and relatives of victims. People were much quicker to tell her things than they were to Sherlock or John. She was kind and patient like John, but she knew exactly what questions to ask like Sherlock, and what to take note of. Sherlock was definitely getting what he had originally wanted, a miniature version of himself, if not improved.

"Oh…" she said, disappointed, "I was making pancakes." _And there goes the puppy dog face, _John thought, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he saw her wide eyes take effect over Lestrade. It worked like a charm of course. He hadn't been exposed to Arianna's powers of persuasion like John and Sherlock had, and he caved just like any other person who had never seen it before.

"Well, I suppose it could wait a few minutes."

Arianna smiled widely and went back into the kitchen. Lestrade shook his head as she left.

John chuckled, "What you are experiencing now is known as post-pouty-eyes regret. Don't worry, happens to the best of us."

Lestrade let out a gust of air and ran his fingers through his hair, "I'll bet it does."

* * *

"All that was left this time was a petal," Lestrade said as Sherlock surveyed the crime scene, "We almost missed it."

They were in a museum, in an ancient egyptian artifacts exhibit. The glass case that a mummified head had been in had a hole cut in it. The hole looked like it had been cut with some high tech gadget one saw in movies. It was precise enough to be the exact size it needed to be to let the head through, no bigger, no smaller. There were no fingerprints, no footprints. The alarm system was still on, and nothing showed up on the security cameras. There was no evidence that anyone had even been there except for the rose petal and the fact that the head was gone.

"What would someone want with a mummified head?" Arianna asked, examining the hole cut into the glass.

"Sell it in the black market maybe," John said, "Perhaps someone in Egypt believed it was rightfully theirs and were willing to pay top dollar for it."

"Very good John," Sherlock said, his face remained expressionless however, as he paced around the display, eyes sweeping over every detail. Then he stopped. Next to the case where the head lay, there was another that held a crown. He got closer and stooped down to look.

"It's a distraction," he said, straightening up.

"What?" John asked, confused as always.

"The mummy's head was only to hide the much more valuable thing that they had stolen."

"What else did they take?" Arianna asked, going to his side.

"Look," he pointed at the crown. She inspected it closely for a few seconds.

"I don't…" and then she saw it. On one of the jewels, the metal facets that held it in was bent. "They took the jewels," she murmured.

"Exactly. And then they took the mummy head, leaving a large hole in the glass to make us believe that if anything else was taken, it would be just as obvious. We were going to be sent on a wild goose chase, looking for the sale of a head, when they were really making money from the jewels. And also, they didn't want us to know about the jewels because I know who would want them, and that will lead us right to them," Sherlock said joyfully. He would get them for sure this time, unmask this man that thought it was amusing to toy with Sherlock and the people he cared about.

* * *

Arianna ran behind Sherlock and John as they sprinted through the alley way. She didn't even know who they were running after. Sherlock had taken them into some shady area on the skirts of the city and made an exchange with a very conspicuous looking man. The man wouldn't let John and Arianna within twenty feet of him, and would only speak with Sherlock. Then they left and got back into their cab. Sherlock wouldn't tell them anything as they went from there to a little greasy restaurant. The sign outside was faded and falling apart.

They walked in and the few people that were in the cramped restaurant stared at them. Apparently they stuck out like sore thumbs. Sherlock walked to the counter and murmured a few words to the cashier, who then sprinted through the door behind the counter. Sherlock hopped over the counter and ran after him.

"You've got to be kidding me," Arianna grumbled. Her legs were much shorter than Sherlock's. John's were as well, but they were still longer than hers and he made it over the counter easier than her. It took her about five to ten seconds and by the time she came out of the back door and into the alley, Sherlock was already down at the end, turning the corner.

"Damnit."

As she turned the corner after them, she ended up slamming into a man. The collision threw her backwards and onto the pavement. She got up and apologized, making sure that the man was okay before running off towards she had last seen them. Her palms stung from the scrapes as she searched frantically for Sherlock and John's running figures. She couldn't see any trace of them.

"Shit."

She slowed to a jog and looked into the different alley ways she passed.

After a minute or two of no luck, something made her stop. Her heart jumped to her throat as an all too familiar smell hit her like a wrecking ball. The aroma of roses poured out of a particularly dark alley. She froze, feeling her stomach start to churn. She gulped and stiffly turned around to look down it. She took a slow step towards the entrance. She had to force her feet to move. Every one of her instincts was screaming at her to run and hide, find Sherlock, find safety. But at the same time, there was something calling her in, like a moth to a flame, sailors to a siren, something dangerously alluring. She could hear something faint, like music. Or maybe that was just her imagination.

No, there was definitely classical music coming from in there, bouncing lightly off of the walls as she took silent steps towards it. There was another alley way that crossed it about halfway through. The music was louder this way, and the smell was stronger. As she took a few steps into it, a man emerged from some doorway.

The man was of medium height, brown hair and eyes. He didn't look too out of the ordinary, no outstanding features. Except perhaps the look in his eyes, and maybe the way he held himself. Everything about him screamed predator. He smiled slyly like a fox, but paced back and forward before her like a panther. He was dangerous. He wore an all white suit with one single red rose sticking out of the pocket. It was him.

Arianna's fists clenched, the panic bubbling beneath the surface of her mind. It was because of him that so many people had died, why she was broken, why she and Sherlock were going through so much frustration. He had shot John and left him to drown. Only her terror and sense of self-preservation kept her rooted to the spot, instead of going to wring his neck. Surely he had some sort of back up with him. He wouldn't lead her into this alley way without protection. Shit, she needed to calm down. She could feel her breathing rate increasing. Her heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it.

"Vivaldi," the man said. Arianna blinked, confused. Then she realized that he was talking about the music. Why was he talking about the music? He must be absolutely insane. "I like it, ends with a big bang." He grinned. She just stared at him. She had to stop panicking. What would Sherlock do at a time like this? Probably sound unimpressed and make some sort of witty jab. She just had to sound calm. Talk to him like he wasn't a psychotic criminal mastermind.

"Yes, nice music selection," she said. It came out a bit more quiet than she intended though. She coughed and said louder, "What I wanna know is how you manage to get this reek of yours to fill the air of such a large space. Some fancy perfume you like maybe?" Good, that sounded confident enough.

The man chuckled, "Glad to see you're a fast learner. It'll help you in the game. My little lemming taught you well."

Arianna's brow furrowed. Lemming? What did she know about lemmings? Small rodents that lived in large groups. There was something she had seen on some science channel on tv when she was a kid. Lemmings traveled in large groups that were like follow the leader. No matter where they went, they would all blindly follow the ones at the head anywhere. And the show said that often the lemmings would all run over the edge of a cliff. Her eyes widened. If he was referring to Sherlock, was he talking about his fake suicide when he had jumped from a building? But the one who had made him do that was…

"You really are a quick one. Figured out who I am have you?" Jim Moriarty said, coming closer.

"But… you're supposed to be dead.." Arianna stuttered.

"Yes, and so is your dear Sherlock. Great minds think alike I suppose," he was even closer now. "We are exactly alike, he and I."

"Hardly," she said, wrinkling her nose, "He's far better than you."

"Oh please," Moriarty rolled his eyes. "Don't give me the hero nonsense. Just because his decisions are a bit more moral and legal than mine, doesn't make him better."

"I don't mean it's because you're evil and he's not," Arianna said, backing up. He was getting a bit too close for comfort. "I mean look at you. You send people off to do your dirty work for you. Sounds a bit cowardly to me. Not to mention you get off on sending thugs to gang rape and kill people. You've got this whole narcissism act up, with your pressed suit and every single hair in perfect place. The tough man act is a bit sad. Compensating for something perhaps? Can't get it up unless there's someone you can think about that's being tortured?" The corner of Moriarty's mouth twitched. "And if we wanted to be shallow about it, Sherlock's much better looking than you, taller than you, probably stronger than you. And I know that he has nothing to compensate for. Believe me, I checked." Something about this was soothing. Although she knew that with every word she only made her death more and more likely, it calmed her down a bit. If she was going to die, at least she would do it with the upper hand in the verbal jousting that always came with such circumstances.

"Very amusing conclusions," Moriarty said, "I'll have to think about that and get back to you on it. Well, maybe not you. I'm afraid you won't be making it out of here. Sherlock just doesn't know how to mind his own business." Arianna bumped against the wall of the alley way and swore silently to herself. He had managed to corner her without her noticing. She hadn't been observant enough. She was focusing too hard on what they were saying to be aware of what was going on physically. Beside her was a pile of crates that extended over a foot above her so she couldn't go sideways.

"One thing I can tell you now though is quite funny. You say he has nothing to compensate for. Perhaps he has the right tools, but I wouldn't be a tiniest bit surprised if he didn't know what to do with it," he was close enough so that she could feel his breath on her face. He raised a hand to her cheek and gently stroked it. "You are quite a pretty little flower, I can see why he picked you instead of the rest of those dreadful weeds that throw themselves at him all the time." He dropped his hand. "But he got something terribly wrong. You see," he said, pressing his thumb to her hipbone where her brand mark was, "you belong to me." He got even closer. Arianna clenched her mouth shut tight. She expected to be overpowered by the scent of roses. But it was even worse than that.

If Sherlock smelled like sophistication, Moriarty smelled like seduction. Pure, unbridled seduction. She felt weak. Her face warmed as she pressed further against the wall to get away from him.

"Let's put it like this," he said quietly, "I don't have to kill you now. I can take you instead, far far away where Sherlock will never find you. The men I sent before were like Armstrong, or Columbus, if you will. They went to explore new uncharted land, see if it was habitable and claim it in my name. You got some pretty good reviews," He grinned widely, "And baby I'm ready to colonize."

Terror renewed itself within her. Her breathing stopped completely as he leaned in and bit her on her lower lip before taking it in his mouth. He pushed her against the wall and forced his tongue into her mouth. She debated biting it, but that would only anger him. She needed to find a way to incapacitate him. Then she remembered what she had tucked into her back pocket. He was hard to resist. If she had thought he smelled good before, it was nothing compared to how he tasted. He was rough though, and he was digging his nails into her slowly slid her hand into her back pocket and slipped out the taser. Thank God Sherlock had given it to her. She took it and got him right in the rib cage with it.

Moriarty fell to the ground shaking. Arianna did her best to stay behind the crates as she searched for a gun in his jacket. She didn't want there to be any clear shots for a nearby sniper. She found one and stood back up, taking a deep breath. "Sorry about your suit," she apologized sarcastically. Pointing the gun at his head, she squared her shoulders.

Before she could squeeze the trigger however, a shot sounded. The bullet grazed the top of her hand, making her drop the gun. "Fuck!" she exclaimed, looking around for the source and clutching her wounded hand. But then she decided that it would be best not to stick around long enough to let them get a better aim on her head. She sprinted away as fast as she could. She didn't care where she went. She just needed to get away, far away.

* * *

Moriarty's legs felt weak as his men helped him get up.

"Are you all right sir?" One asked nervously.

"Fine," he said, fuming. As many arms tried to steady him he shouted, "I said I'm fine!"throwing them off and straightening his suit out. He knew he must look foolish. There was dirt on his white suit and a few pieces of hair were hanging in his face. He tried his best to look intimidating. This girl was going to pay for this. She would suffer, and he would see to it personally. He'd slowly cut her into pieces with his own hands.

He would have to patient though. No doubt, Sherlock would be keeping her on lock down.

_All in good time,_ he thought to himself, taking off his suit jacket.

_All in good time._

* * *

When Arianna felt that she had run far enough she stopped. But there was still no guarantee that she was safe. She looked around and saw a crowded restaurant. Good, there were lots of people there, too many witnesses for anyone to try and kill her. She walked in and sat herself at a table in the corner, pulling out her phone. She took a napkin and wiped the bit of blood from her lip where Moriarty had bit her while the phone rang.

"Sherlock? I need you to meet me at that one restaurant that's always really busy on churton street. I don't remember the name. Just hurry." She took the napkin and pressed it to her hand.

When they got there, Arianna had ordered herself a drink. Luckily she must have looked eighteen because they didn't card her. Either that, or it was because she had flirted with the waiter a little. Sherlock's eyebrow raised when he saw her drink but didn't say anything. John on the other hand did quite the opposite.

"Is that a margarita?" he hissed.

"Maybe it is," Arianna said, "it doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" he reached over to take it. She picked up and held it away,

"Stop! I need this right now. Just shut up and let me tell you what happened."

She relayed the events to them, looking down into her drink instead of their faces. Leaving out the parts about how he smelled and tasted and most of their conversation. That wasn't really what mattered. What mattered was that she had tasered him, and that there was no doubt that he would be after now. Not just to hurt Sherlock, but to get back at her specifically.

John was shaking his head, "What is it with people around here and faking their own deaths?" Really, first Irene Adler, then Sherlock, and now Moriarty.

Sherlock was deep in thought, his expression unreadable. It worried Arianna. Was it a hopeless case? Was there no chance she would survive this? When he had tried to kill Sherlock, it had been a game to him. It was simply to get him out of the way. But her, he must be furious with her. He would want to kill and torture her out of hate and vengeance. He would hunt her like an animal. Not play a game with her like an equal like he had done with Sherlock. Her hands started to shake. She gulped down the last of her drink and set it down. Just when she had gotten rid of the men who had promised to hunt her down again, she had another predator after her.

"What are we gunna do?" she asked, voice breaking the slightest bit.

"We're going to keep you under constant surveillance until I can hunt him down and end him," Sherlock said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh. Who will watch me, if you're out hunting him down?"

"I can let Mycroft and Lestrade take turns."

Arianna had a feeling it wasn't going to be that easy.

"What happened to your hand?" John exlaimed as she put the one wrapped in a napkin on the table.

"One of Moriarty's snipers. I was going to shoot him, but they got me first. Luckily it was just my hand."

John insisted on examing it.

"Yeah, you definitely got lucky," he said. "It just barely nicked you."

"Can we just go home now? I'm exhausted."

"Of course," John said gently.

Arianna paid for her drink and they went outside to hail a cab.

"We really need a car," she said as they got out and walked up to their door.

"Yeah," John chuckled, "You go ahead and buy one." There was no way he could afford to buy a car.

"Maybe I will," she said thoughtfully, "It is only two weeks 'til christmas."

"You're not buying us a _car _for christmas!" John said, exasperated.

"Well, either way, I still need to go christmas shopping…" What on Earth would she get them? She should get something for Lestrade too. And she doubted that Mycroft got many presents. And she only had two weeks. She was going to have to think fast.

This would definitely be an interesting christmas.


	31. Merry Christmas

_Here's the new chapter, took me a while I know. I have lots of ideas of what_'s _going to happen. I've just been having trouble getting it all down and connecting the events together. Please review! It get's a bit disheartening when the only reviews I get are telling me to update, and then when I do no one says anything about the chapter. I hope you enjoy it!_

Arianna drummed her fingers on the handlebar of the shopping cart. She had gotten her presents for Sherlock, John, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson. What on Earth would she get for Mycroft? He could probably have anything he wanted. How did one get a present for someone like that? His umbrella had been looking a bit worn lately. But surely an umbrella wasn't a good present. The only way she could get him something he probably didn't already have was to make him something. But he didn't seem to be the sentimental type who would appreciate that sort of thing. Then again, maybe he would. If she was right about him not receiving presents, then maybe the fact that he got one would be nice. She knew it was too much to hope for. He was a grown man, not an orphan who would just be happy to receive something at all. It was the best she could do though. And if he didn't like it, well at least she would have would she make him though? She'd have to think about it. But she didn't have much time.

Sherlock had finally agreed to let her go christmas shopping, but only with a supervisor. So, one of Mycroft's men shadowed her silently while she browsed. Then she had an idea. Mycroft must not get much recognition for all of his work. He was always behind the curtain. Maybe she could put together some way of recognizing him and thanking him.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked her guard.

"You may," the man said without looking at her.

"Does Mycroft clean up a lot of messes that he doesn't get credit for? I've never heard of him receiving any honors, and I'm sure that he does things that deserve it."

"Mr. Holmes doesn't work for awards. He does his job well and doesn't ask for anything but enough to keep him comfortable," he said in a very business-like manner.

"So, it would be hard to find some sort of documentation of all of his accomplishments?"

"It would be impossible."

Arianna thought for a second, "Do you think that maybe you could tell me of some big events that wouldn't have succeeded without him? You don't have to give any details, just list some things that he had a big part in."

Her shadow fidgeted. "I don't know… Perhaps. Why?"

"I was thinking of making some sort of book of all of the good things he's done that he's gotten no credit for to sort of thank him."

"I suppose I could tell you a few things then, yes."

She grinned enthusiastically, "Thanks!"

"Not here though," he said, looking around, "somewhere more private."

Arianna shook her head. Mycrofts men were so serious and secretive.

"Alright, just let me find one more thing." She still needed a present for Lestrade. His wallet had been looking really worn out lately. She could get him a new one. Maybe with his initials stitched into it. Yeah, that sounded nice. She would have to go to a different store though.

"On second thought, is there some sort of leather store around here?"

* * *

Sherlock had nearly gone into a state of panic after Arianna had mentioned shopping for Christmas presents. He had almost forgotten about Christmas. He would have to buy presents. It would be easy to find something for John, but what on Earth would he get for her? He didn't want to ask John. He would probably laugh at him. He was always petty about the things in which he was more knowledgeable than Sherlock. He would _definitely_ not be asking Mycroft.

So that's how he ended up at the small restaurant that he and John had first sat at together, waiting for the serial suicide killer. The owner greeted him enthusiastically, as always. He was more than happy to help. In fact he seemed overjoyed. Sherlock didn't quite understand how the man found happiness in his formation of a romance, but it meant that the man would help so he just ignored it.

"You've got to get her something pretty. Some nice earrings maybe," the man said, "Women love jewelry. Anything shiny, she'll love it."

Sherlock thought about this. Arianna did seem to like earrings. But she had plenty of those already. And if she wanted more she could always buy more.

"She already has a lot of earrings, and she has even more money. I don't think that would be a good present."

"Ah! It's a rich lady then, eh? Then you gotta get her something she can't buy! Maybe you can make her something instead. Women love when you make them things."

It sounded to Sherlock that women loved many things. But he wasn't the expert. He couldn't really make anything though. At least not anything that could be given as a present. Wait. On second thought, when he was a kid he had often carved little sculptures out of wood with his knife when he was bored. At least until the teacher caught him on the playground with it and confiscated it. Apparently it was against school rules to bring a knife. They had called his mother and she had forbidden him from the activity. He had considered disobeying until she had threatened to tell his father. That had silenced him immediately. He had grown quite adept at it before that though. Maybe he could pick up the talent again. It had to be stashed away somewhere in his mind palace with his other childhood memories. At least with the more pleasant ones.

There were plenty of memories that he had locked in a room that he didn't ever plan on opening. But he couldn't throw them away. They were too large a part of who he was and what his beliefs were. To throw those out would render him weaker and more ignorant.

His therapist at the time had actually encouraged his hobby. He said that it was good for him to focus on details in a constructive manner such as this. What would he carve her though? He was always good at making animals. Arianna's favorite animal was an otter. That should be simple enough. He breathed a sigh of relief. As long as he could remember how to make it, he had a present for her. Hopefully it would come back to him easily. "Like riding a bike," was the phrase people usually used. He didn't actually know how to ride a bike, so he didn't know how accurate that was.

"Thank you," Sherlock handed him some money.

"What? No! You don't have to pay me for that," the man laughed, "advice between friends doesn't need payment."

Sherlock was surprised. Friends? He didn't consider him a friend, just an acquaintance. Is that what friends did? Give eachother advice and do favors for them without asking for anything in return? Being friends with John didn't really give him an exact idea of what friendship was. The relationship between he and John was more complex and deep than the friendships that he had observed between the people around him. It sounded as if having a few shallow friendships could be useful now, escpecially if it meant getting information without having to pay.

"That's not really what friendships are for," Arianna laughed when he was telling her about it later. He didn't tell her what he was asking about, just that he had asked for advice. "That's just using someone. You have to be willing to do them favors and give them advice too. It can't be one sided."

Sherlock frowned, "That sounds a lot like paying. If anything it's worse. It's easier to just give them money instead of having to put effort into a favor for them."

"You don't necessarily have to pay them a favor every single time that they do one for you. You just have to be mutually willing to do things for each other. It's not really counted numerically. As long as one person isn't doing all the favors while the other never does anything for them it's fine."

Sherlock didn't like this. He liked it better when he could measure and count things with precision. This sounded much too complicated to be worth the time. It would probably be best to just stick with Arianna and John for now.

"Good. Because otherwise I would owe you quite a few favors."

Arianna smiled, "Yeah you would. But it's okay, I'm not keeping track."

Yes. Two friends would be plenty enough for now.

* * *

It was pride that had kept Sherlock from entering the throne room lately. He was afraid to see what was sitting in the great chairs. The idea of his new-found urges controlling him was horrifying. He could not accept the thought that he may be being ruled by something like lust. He was not an animal, he was above that. At least that's what he told himself. The fact that he refused to step foot in it though, proved that he didn't even believe himself. But he had recently cleared out his head, so that those urges were no longer as prominent. Or at least Arianna had calmed them down, in a way. So he decided that maybe it would be safe enough to investigate.

Now he hesitantly entered the grand hall and was relieved to find that the same figures sat in their respective places. The queen looked relatively pale though. He could understand that. The willingness he had to throw away his work recently to take care of Arianna and John stunningly contrasted with his previous values. He gave her a guilty and apologetic smile and turned to the table in the center of the room.

There lay his jewel, as always. He wasn't surprised to see that it had shifted colors again. Instead of the royal purple it was now a warm magenta that had a soft glow to it. The light pulsed like a heart beat as he got closer. He picked up the gem slowly. The warmth coursed through him as it always did. But now instead of ending with,

_Because you have John,_

It added,

_And Arianna too._

_You are not alone._

_You are loved._

Sherlock smiled

* * *

Arianna woke up to the smell of pine needles. She had insisted that they get a Christmas tree, and John had agreed. So even though Sherlock didn't see the point of bringing a large plant into the house, they all went out to buy one. Arianna had bought decorations for the tree and they had spent a night hanging them on the branches. She had put on Christmas music for them to listen to. John and Arianna sang along as Sherlock was sort of awkwardly silent. Sherlock wasn't acquainted with Christmas traditions, so he didn't know any of the words to the songs that they listened to, or the point of having so many songs centered around one day. He liked listening to them sing though. John wasn't very good, but his tendency to be off-key was actually a bit endearing. And Arianna had a way of singing that made her look like she thought she was on stage. She would pretend that whatever she was holding was a microphone and dance around as she hung things on the tree.

A few times she had tried to get Sherlock to join her, but he could not dance at all. He was too stiff and awkward to move with that sort of rhythm. He could do most ballroom dances. Things like the waltz were much easier, measurable and repetitive. This was different. There were no exact steps that he could memorize. He was just supposed to "let his body move with the rhythm," as Arianna put it. After a couple of tries she could see that he wasn't going to get the hang of it and gave up, laughing. Sherlock didn't mind. He was content to just watch her and John dance around and listen to them sing. Arianna had quite a good voice. She was singing in a joking a way, not really trying to sound good, but every once in a while a few clear beautiful notes would come out and Sherlock would freeze and listen carefully. Of course she could sing. Nothing she ever did would be mediocre. It started to get to him, the fact that she seemed to be superwoman or something. She was musical, smart, a great cook, witty, beautiful, and could read people as easily as a children's book. He would have to try and find something that she couldn't do.

This morning, there were presents surrounding the bottom of the tree. Arianna sat up and stretched. It was Christmas morning. When she was a kid, she and her sister would jump into their parents beds in the morning and insist that they get up so that they could open their presents, no matter how early in the morning it was. She sat there for a few moments before grinning and getting out of bed. She ran into Sherlock's room and flung herself onto the bed beside his sleeping figure.

"Sherlock!" she yelled, "Wake up! It's christmas!"

He woke up with a start, sitting up, alarmed. She giggled at his groggy and confused expression.

"Why…?" he groaned.

"Sorry, childhood tradition. Couldn't resist," she smiled at him, "Now get up."

"Fine," he grumbled turning so his feet hung off of the bed.

"Okay, I'll be back."

"Where are you going?"

She grinned, "It's John's turn now."

With that she bounded out of the room. Sherlock sighed as she heard her feet going up the stairs, only hitting about five and skipping the rest.

"John! Wake up!" Arianna shouted, bursting into his room. She leapt onto his bed and started bouncing up and down.

John was much slower to get up than Sherlock had been. But eventually they were all gathered in the living room around the christmas tree.

"I want to give my presents first," Arianna announced. She had gotten them both two presents. One present was a normal present, and the other was more of a joke present. She made them open the joke presents first.

"Things a respectable man should never wear…" John said slowly, looking at the cover of the book.

"Flip to the page with the book mark," Arianna giggled. He did.

"It's an entire section about jumpers…"

Sherlock snickered. John did wear a very interesting assortment of jumpers. They were endearing, but definitely not fashionable.

"You open yours Sherlock."

"Fine," Sherlock's smirk faded as he tore off the wrapping paper. His was a book as well.

"What is it?" John said.

"A guide to the solar system for children…"

Now it was John's turn to laugh. Sherlock was less amused.

"Oh get your knickers out of a bunch," John chuckled. Sherlock stuck his tongue out at him.

Then it was time to open their real presents. Sherlock's was huge and heavy. Inside was a medium sized refridgerator so that he could have his own to put his body parts in. There was also a magnetic white board, so that he could take notes right on the fridge. John's present was tiny in comparison. It was in a box that looked like it could be a miniature pencil case.

When he opened it his mouth dropped a little. He pulled out four slips of paper. Two of them were plane tickets and the other two were cruise liner tickets.

"For you and Jamie," Arianna smiled, "I got you plane tickets too, because I thought it wouldn't really be a good present if you had to pay for a ticket all the way to mexico so that you could go on the cruise."

"Thank you," John said, hugging her, "I feel a bit bad now. Your present is much better than mine is."

"I'm sure it's fine. Just because mine costed more doesn't mean it's better. I have plenty of money."

Then it was her turn to open presents.

John wasn't very good at giving women presents. His relationship with Arianna was probably the longest relationship he had ever had with a woman. Which was really quite sad actually. Not that there was anything romantic going on between them, he just wasn't used to getting something for a woman that he had known for this long. He tried to blame his inability to hold on to a girlfriend on Sherlock. But he knew that in the end it was his fault that they all left. He could just never give them the attention they needed. Luckily Jamie was turning out to be great. She seemed like she would be sticking around for a while.

He had noticed that Arianna liked the show Doctor Who. He had only seen a few episodes, but it seemed as if she had seen every single one. So, he got her a new ipod case that looked like a TARDIS and two tickets for her and Sherlock to go down to the Doctor Who theme park. He didn't get himself one because he thought it would be good for them go by themselves. They had never actually been on a date before, which was odd. Although, they weren't necessarily an ordinary couple. In fact, they were anything but ordinary. But that was to be expected. Anything that Sherlock was ever involved in could never be normal.

Luckily, Arianna was very enthusiastic about the present.

"I had forgotten about that! I've been wanting to go there for months!" She exclaimed.

"I'm glad you like it," John said, relieved.

Then it was Sherlock's turn. He handed her a small box. Arianna opened it carefully. Inside was a was a gold bracelet. She picked it up carefully and held it in front of her face. Blue and purple gems dangled and glinted in the light as she examined it. On the opposite side of the clasp there was a small wooden otter, carved to look like it was floating on it's back in the water. In it's hands, where an otter might hold an oyster, sat a small magenta crystal.

"It's so gorgeous, where did you get it?" Her favorite animal was an otter. She didn't know whether or not that he knew this surprised her.

"I made it," Sherlock said quietly, studying her with utmost concentration, gauging her reaction. "Well, I carved the otter. I bought the chain and the gems of course I couldn't really make those…" he trailed off awkwardly.

"Wow. That's amazing! It's beautiful, and the color of the crystal that the otter is holding is so pretty."

Sherlock smiled. She had no idea. It was the most beautiful color in the world.

* * *

Mycroft sat alone in front of his fire place, staring at the wrapped package in his lap. He had wondered whether or not this girl would spread her sentiment to him. She had invited him to come to their flat that night to celebrate, but he had turned her down. He wasn't the sort for such events. He slowly ripped and peeled off the paper. He pulled a large book that looked like a photo album or a scrapbook out of the wrapping paper. On the cover, large letters read,

_THANK YOU._

He opened the book. Newspaper and magazine articles were plastered on every page. Headines of different achievements in Britain and last minute saves from crises looked up at him in bold black letters. He had a feeling that he had been involved in every single event in this book. He flipped through the pages, which confirmed his guess. The girl had some how investigated and learned every event of relative importance that he had been involved in, even though he was never mentioned in any of the papers. He was an invisible entity. It was partly what made him so powerful. Had it been anyone else he would have been worried. But he had done all sorts of background checks on her. Her espionage and research did not seem to have any malignant intent.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he continued to look through the book. She had written in comments on the side of some of the articles, like _Damn! That is badass! _Or, _They should've given you a HUGE trophy for that one!_

He shook his head. This girls enthusiasm was unbridled sometime, like a five year old girl. She was very young in some ways. Her face and caring viewpoint on the world portrayed a sort of childlike innocence. Contrasting with this, her eyes and words shone with an unusual maturity for someone her age. Moments like this, when she had found something that Mycroft would actually appreciate even though he was sure that no such present existed, he could see her wisdom that was beyond her years. It was as if she could read people even better than Sherlock, who lacked the capacity to understand people on emotional level. At the same time, maybe she just had a knack for knowing exactly what someone needed, without being consciously aware of it.

When he got to the last page there was a small voice recorder taped to it. He hesitantly pressed the play button. A voice came out. Sherlock's.

"Why are you asking me about this?"

"Just answer the question," came Arianna's voice.

There was a moment of silence.

"Fine. Yes, when I was younger Mycroft did take care of me quite a bit. Much more than my mother ever did."

"And what about your father?"

"Definitely. My father barely even looked at me. Only when he was scolding me did he ever pay me much attention."

"So… would you say that Mycroft was a big influence on who you grew up to be?"

More silence.

"If you want to be sentimental about it I suppose."

"I do want to be sentimental about it."

There was a sigh from Sherlock.

"Alright. Yes. He helped me with a lot my anger problems when I was younger. If he had've just ignored me I would have probably grown up to be a violent criminal. And a good one at that."

"So, are you grateful?"

"I don't know why you keep putting these soppy words in my mouth. Why are you asking me to talk about these things? You know I'm not the sort to show such emotions, let alone have them."

"What about when he took care of me? Were you grateful then?"

Another aggravated sigh from Sherlock.

"Fine. Yes."

"Good. Me too."

The recording ended. Mycroft chuckled. It was amusing how easily she could get Sherlock to start to open up. Anyone else would have been shut down immediately. He didn't quite know how he felt about the recording. He was even less sentimental than Sherlock. But it was… nice.

He pressed play again.

* * *

221B was filled with sound of laughter and the smell of sugar cookies. Molly, Lestrade, Jamie and Mrs. Hudson had joined them for a christmas party of sorts. It wasn't supposed to be a gift giving event, but Arianna had still given everyone there a present.

"That's great!" Lestrade said as he opened his, "I really needed a new wallet. Mine has been falling apart."

"Yeah, I know," Arianna grinned, "You're very welcome."

She had gotten Mrs. Hudson a new scarf and an apron that said, _Not your housekeeper _on it. Molly got earrings and a matching hair clip.

"Th-thank you," Molly had stuttered. She stuttered quite a lot. Arianna figured it was just because Sherlock was around. "I should have gotten you something."

"Nah, it's fine. I like giving presents," she said. Molly looked at her for a moment and decided that her smile was genuine and smiled shyly back.

"I really like your bracelet," she said, not stuttering thank god. She hated how nervous she got when Sherlock was near her. She could feel him watching them. She wasn't like this normally. But just get her into a room with Sherlock and she turned into a giant quivering, stuttering ball of awkward.

"Thanks! Sherlock got it for me," Arianna thought it would be best to say "got" instead of "made." Molly did have feelings for Sherlock after all. She was wearing a very nice and flattering dress that was a bit fancy for the occasion. Arianna thought she had seen Sherlock's eyes roll just the slightest bit when she had taken her coat off. Apparently Molly did this often.

Jamie was extatic when John showed her the tickets Arianna had gotten them.

"Oh this will be so exciting!" she exclaimed, "I've heard it's always sunny down there. I can get nice and brown!"

"I'm glad you like it," Arianna said. And she was. She wanted Jamie and John to work out well. She noticed though that Sherlock had a tinge of disapproval in his eyes. Sherlock never seemed to like Jamie much. Arianna thought this was a little childish, but said nothing. As long as he didn't cause any trouble, it would be fine.

She felt weird, having to keep such a distance from him. Normally she would sit on the arm of his chair next to him and he would place his hand on the small of her back. His long elegant fingers often sent shivers up her spine. But she had to keep a professional space between them while other people were around.

Later, Arianna and Sherlock both played the rest of the guests Christmas songs on their violins. Sherlock playing the melody and Arianna weaving a harmony around it.

Arianna loved playing the violin. The way the notes vibrated from beneath her fingertips and into the air made her feel warm and at home. She could paint pictures and write stories with the sweet chords and swinging phrases. She let her mind wander into imaginary valleys and forests covered in snow as she crescendo-ed and diminished with each phrase.

"Well that was just lovely," Mrs. Hudson beamed when they had finished, "It's so nice to have two violinists in the house!"

"Yeah, maybe you two could compose something together," John said, "that'd be neat."

"Oh no," Arianna said bashfully, "I'm not really that good at composing."

Molly's eyes were focused on Sherlock with wonder. Arianna felt bad for her. Molly was pretty enough to find a man easily, but she was too busy waiting for Sherlock. After they put their instruments away, Arianna went to sit next to her.

"So, how are things going?"

"Um, good I guess," Molly replied, smiling nervously. It seemed as if everything she did, she did it nervously.

"So, how long have you and Sherlock been working together?"

"Around five years," Molly said, practically flinching at his name.

"You must not get a lot of time for yourself. He always calls you in so late to do him favors. Wouldn't you rather be out with friends or with a guy maybe?"

Molly's face turned red.

"I really don't mind that much. And I'm not really into guys or-"

"Except for Sherlock," Arianna said leaning in closer.

Molly's face was as red as a lobster now. She turned around to look at Sherlock to make sure he wasn't listening. He was busy talking to Lestrade though.

"He already knows," Arianna sighed, "you know that."

"I know I just…"

"It wouldn't be that bad to tell him no, you know, even if he does sulk about it."

"I really don't mind at all though-"

"I know you don't. But in a few years you'll wish you did."

Molly fell silent. The girl was right of course. How much time did she spend hanging around, doing him favors, in hopes that he would one day return the feelings when knew that it would never happen? Did she want to be sad and alone ten years from now, while all of her friends were already married and probably with children? Maybe she shouldn't let Sherlock walk all over her like that. She opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by Lestrade, who stood and said,

"Alright, I think it's about time I headed out."

Molly looked at the clock, then stood as well, "Yeah, I think I had better go too." It was after midnight.

Everyone said their goodbyes as they put their coats on and left. After they had gone, Mrs. Hudson stayed for a little while and chatted with them, before going downstairs herself. Arianna got up and started taking the glasses into the kitchen. She could hear John and Jamie giggling in the living room. They had both had their fill of wine.

What she didn't know was that Sherlock had actually drank quite a bit himself. He was sitting in a chair, staring at the fire place with a warm buzz in his head. Unconsciously he began humming an off-key version of Deck the Halls. John was too busy with Jamie to notice it. She whispered something in his ear that caused him to nod and stand up. He came into the doorway of the kitchen and said to Arianna,

"So… Jamie and I are going to head over to her apartment for the rest of the night. You and Sherlock behave yourselves. Keep the house in one piece." John seemed to be very proud of himself for that comment, chuckling to himself as if he had made some sort of joke.

"Okay," Arianna laughed, "you kids have fun."

John went upstairs to grab his things, and a few minutes later he and Jamie were walking out of the door. As Arianna was finishing the dishes, Jamie came back up and into the kitchen for a split second.

"John sent me to get money for the cab," she said as she reached into the jar that Sherlock and John kept their money in. After fishing out the bills, she quickly went back to the stairs and descended. Arianna heard the door downstairs close and went into the living room where Sherlock sat. Sitting on the arm of his chair she put a hand on his head and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Hey, you okay? You seem pretty interested in that fire," she said. He looked up at her and smiled with a bit of a lopsided grin.

"Yes I'm fine," he stopped and stared at her for a few moments before saying, with a bit of a slur in his speech, "You are most definitely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

"I- uh…" Arianna started, a bit surprised at his behavior.

"By far the most beautiful. Absolutely more than that Irene Adler… she's too… bony, too thin," he waved his hands in front of him as if he were shooing away a fly, "Not to mention her… lack of breasts. In many ancient and modern civilizations… rounder women are preferred, ones with wider hips," he said, taking on a very matter-of-fact-tone, "It most likely has something to do with the natural knowledge that wide hips are better for childbirth which would make for a better mate because of the greater chance of healthy offspring…"

Arianna stared at him, slightly stunned, "Sherlock?" she said slowly, "Are you drunk?"

"I may be a bit intoxicated, but I don't think that makes my point any less valid," he said, his brows furrowing in an attempt to look serious, but he ended up only looking a little confused. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in a bit closer.

She laughed, "You are definitely drunk, we should get you to bed." Before she could get up however, Sherlock was pulling her into his lap and burying his face into her neck.

"You're nice and soft, like a perfect pillow…" he murmured, his voice coming out muffled from her neck.

She laughed again, "I'm glad you think I'm a good pillow, but I'm sure the one in your bed would probably be better."

Sherlock picked his head up and stared at her, confused,

"Are you a mind reader?"

"What? No."

"Then how did you know I thought you were a good pillow?"

"Because you just said so," Arianna said slowly.

"Oh… I was unaware that I had said that out loud. It seems as if I have lost control over my speech," he looked slightly perplexed at the idea.

"Yep, that happens," Arianna chuckled, "Alright, come on. Time for bed." She managed to slip out of his grasp and stand. She pulled him up as well and supported him on her shoulder as she lead him to his bedroom. Sherlock giggled and muttered random bits of things into her ear as she struggled under his weight. When she got to his room, she got ready to put him to bed.

"Wait!" Sherlock said suddenly.

"What?"

"I can't sleep in this. It's not comfortable."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Well you're a grown man. You can change." She sat him on the bed and started to leave. Just as she was about to close the door behind her Sherlock called out,

"Wait!"

God damnit.

"What now?" She turned around to see Sherlock fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

"It seems as if my fingers aren't functioning correctly."

Arianna sighed and went back into the room, walking back to stand in front of him. She looked down at him struggle with her hands on her hips. He looked up at her and stuck his lower lip out in a pitiful pout.

"Fine…" she sighed, moving his hands and unbuttoning his shirt for him. He was wearing a white cotton T-shirt underneath. She slipped his arms out of the shit and threw it across the room.

"There. Better?"

"Yes. But I can't sleep in these pants."

Arianna looked at him incredulously. Was he really asking her to take his pants off for him? Not that she hadn't done so before, and for more carnal reasons nonetheless. Sherlock just stared back at her, eyes wide like a child.

"Ugh. Stand up."

Sherlock did as he was told, a little unsteadily. Arianna quickly undid his belt and his pants and pulled them down to the ground. He stepped out of them and Arianna pulled the covers back on his bed before pushing him onto it. As she tried to pull the covers over him he grabbed her and pulled her into bed on top of him.

"Sherlock…"

"Stay," he said, in the firmest tone he could use, as drunk as he was. Arianna could have probably easily gotten out of his grip but she just sighed and said,

"Fine. Just let me pull the covers up." She slid off of him so that she was next to and pulled the blanket over them. She rolled on her side so that she was against him and cuddled up to him.

"Ow," Sherlock said, shifting uncomfortably.

"What?"

"Your button, it's hurting my hip." He was referring to the button on her pants, of course.

"You are such a whiner when you're drunk," she said, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them off. She kicked them to the bottom of the bed and entwined her legs with his. Sherlock turned over so that he was facing her and placed a sloppy kiss on her lips. She smiled and kissed him back as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer. He messily slipped his tongue into her mouth, but had a bit of trouble keeping it in there. His tongue slid out and around onto her face.

"Sh-Sherlock," she spluttered, pulling away, "what on Earth are you doing?"

"You just… taste nice…" Sherlock murmured, his eyes closed.

"You are so freaking weird when you're drunk," Arianna laughed, pushing him away as he tried to lean in again. He made noises of protest and pushed himself up and over so that he landed on top of her.

"Oh God," she choked out as she was rolled over onto her back and got the crushed the air out of her lungs by Sherlock's weight on her. Sherlock nuzzled into her neck and hummed contentedly.

"Sherlock please," she gasped, "I can't breathe!" She wedged her arms between them and pushed, barely succeeding in sliding Sherlock off to the side.

"You know what sounds fantastic right now?" Sherlock said suddenly, "Some shepherds pie! We should go out and get some!"

"There is no way you're going anywhere Sherlock. You're drunk. Besides, it's like two in the morning on Christmas!"

"Bah!" Sherlock muttered, rolling over so that the covers were wrapped around him like a burrito, and pulling them off of her.

"Sherlock! It's cold!" When he didn't respond she sat up and said sternly, "If you keep acting like this I'll go sleep in my own bed." This got his attention. Sherlock squirmed around in an attempt to unwrap himself, but a few seconds later it was apparent that he wasn't going to get anywhere. Arianna sighed and got up on her knees and untangled him from the blankets before pulling them back over them both. He turned to face her again, running a hand up her leg and pulling her close.

Sherlock's head was spinning. Everything was a bit fuzzy and he couldn't focus on things. Usually he could look at something and at least ten different bits of information would pop into his head. But now everything was nice and quiet in his mind, except for a light buzzing. All that he could feel was the lightheadedness and Arianna. He liked it. It was a bit of a relief, to not be bombarded by involuntary deductions constantly. And she was so soft and warm. Her smell added to the sense of floating, like he was lying on a cloud instead of his bed. Her presence tugged on him like a magnet, making him go in closer and closer. He moved his hand up to her bottom, sliding the tips of his fingers under her underwear.

Arianna shivered. His fingers were cold. She expected him to go further, but was surprised to find that his breathing had started to slow. Within seconds, Sherlock was fast asleep. She smiled and closed her eyes peacefully. She felt safe and at home in Sherlock's arms.

But she wasn't safe. She began to realize it as Sherlock started to mumble in his sleep. Jim Moriarty was after her, and her one protector was in a drunken state of unconsciousness John was at his girlfriends house. She was completely vulnerable in this state. And the fact that it was Christmas surely wouldn't stop Moriarty. In fact it might make his attack more likely. He would find it all too amusing to surprise them on Christmas when their guard was down. And their guard was down, completely and utterly so.

Sherlock rolled onto his back in his sleep. All sense of sleepiness vanished, she got out of bed and went into the living room. She slipped her gun out from beneath her pillow and sat down in a chair. The fire had died down, and all that was left was the soft glow of the orange embers. She jumped and held back a yelp as her phone buzzed from on the table. She went over to pick it up, squinting at the bright light that shone from it.

_Don't worry flower, you're safe for tonight. I wouldn't want to ruin your christmas. Besides, it would hardly be fair if I snatched you up while little Sherlock was drunk. Funny drunk, isn't he? X_

Arianna gulped. So, he was watching them. He was waving their vulnerability in her face, gloating. He knew just as well as she did how easily he could get her.

_Nice underwear, by the way. X_

She shuddered and considered shutting the curtains, but highly doubted that that would help. She could also put pants on, but she didn't want to show that she was scared. She would silently defy him and keep her pants off. There was no way she'd let him make her do something out of fear. She went back into Sherlock's room with her phone and the gun. It would be safer for Sherlock if she went in there where she could protect him.

She got back under the covers next to him, gun in hand. Her phone buzzed.

_The little flower thinks she can protect her lemming? Little flower should worry a bit more about herself. X_

Arianna put her phone under her pillow and shut her eyes. Everything would be fine. She would do the protecting tonight. Tomorrow it would be Sherlock's turn again. She lay awake for hours, and it wasn't until the light just barely started peeping over the horizon that she fell into an involuntary sleep.

* * *

John stepped into the living room of the flat to find it empty. He looked at his watch. It was one in the afternoon. He went into Sherlock's room to find Sherlock and Arianna sound asleep, a surprising distance from eachother, considering the fact that they were together. He took a step into the room and a floorboard creaked. Arianna sat up with a start, panic in her eyes and a gun in her hands, which she pointed at John. John put his hands up and backed.

"Woah woah woah!" he said, "It's just me."

Arianna's shoulders sagged with relief.

"Thank God," she sighed.

"Are you okay? Why do you have a gun?"

"Sherlock was drunk beyond functioning last night, and you were gone. It wasn't safe. Sorry I almost shot you. I thought you were Moriarty.." John's fists clenched as she said that name. Merely the sound of it brought up enough anger and anxiety to increase his heart rate significantly.

"It's okay," he frowned, "I'm sorry I left you alone. I should have known better. You're right, it wasn't safe. Although, it was half Sherlock's fault for getting drunk." He glanced at Sherlock warily.

"It's not anyone's fault. There were just a number of circumstances that built up to the situation being unsafe."

John rolled his eyes. He or Sherlock could probably shoot a puppy in the face in cold blood and she would still refuse to put the blame on anyone.

"What time is it?"

"About one."

"Jesus Christ it's late," she stretched and got out of bed. Taking her phone from underneath her pillow. John started a bit and then stared pointedly at the ceiling. "What?" She looked down, "Oh! Sorry!" she had forgotten that she wasn't wearing pants.

"It's okay," John said, remaining apparently fascinated with the ceiling.

"It's too cute how modest you are," Arianna laughed. "I mean, you've already seen me naked. And it's just underwear. It's like a bathing suit. At least I've got a shirt on."

John didn't respond.

"Fine," she sighed, going past him and out of Sherlock's room. John flinched as she brushed against him. Going into her closet she changed her underwear and put on a pair of sweatpants. Her phone went off while she was in there.

_Good morning, little flower. X_

She shook her head and put her phone into her pocket.

"Sherlock is going to have such a hangover when he wakes up," she said as she came out of the closet.

"I didn't even notice that he had been drinking," John said, "Sherlock doesn't usually drink much at all."

"Well, he drank over half of a bottle of wine" she said, picking up the bottle from beside where he had been sitting last night. "I wonder why…" If he usually didn't drink at all, why did he suddenly feel the need to drink at least six glasses of wine within a two hour span? Was something wrong?

They both turned as they heard a groan from Sherlock's room. A few minutes later, Sherlock came shuffling out, his house robe wrapped around him.

"Good morning!" Arianna said cheerfully.

Sherlock flinched, his eyes droopy, "Not so loud…" he whined.

She laughed. "I'll go make some tea for you."

As she went into the kitchen, making tea, Sherlock sat down in his chair. John looked at him accusingly. When Sherlock finally noticed, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"You are angry with me?"

"Your lack of sobriety left Arianna feeling very vulnerable and frightened last night."

Sherlock blinked at him, "Why?"

"Because, you stupid git, Moriarty has got a vendetta against her. I came into your room this morning and she almost shot me! I'd be surprised if she had gotten more than an hour so of sleep."

Sherlock said nothing, his mouth in a thin straight line. He stood and went into the kitchen. He could see from a few feet away that her hands were shaking as she put the water on the stove. He came up closer when her phone buzzed from the counter. Arianna visibly stiffened, her posture screaming fear and worry. She went to reach for it, but Sherlock snatched it from beneath her hovering fingertips.

"Sherlock!" she protested, reaching for the phone. He held it above his head where she couldn't reach it. "Stop it!"

"Not so loud!" Sherlock groaned, scrunching his eyes shut. His head was pounding like a jackhammer. He opened his eyes again and looked up at the phone, opening the text that she had just received from an unknown number.

_I hope you slept well. X_

Sherlock's grip tightened on the phone. Fury boiled within him.

"When did these start?"

"Last night…" Arianna said quietly.

Sherlock sighed and rested his head on top of hers. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot."

"I wasn't in any danger. He said that he wouldn't try to take me, and he didn't."

Sherlock shook his head vigorously. "But you must have been terrified. I left you all alone with the knowledge that he was watching you and that he could break in and take you at any minute." He looked through the other texts that he had sent her. When he got to the one about her underwear his grip became so tight it seemed as if the phone may break.

"It's fine. He's just trying to scare me. I'm not anymore scared than I already was. I already knew that he was probably watching me. The fact that he's talking to me doesn't really make it worse."

She was lying. Sherlock knew it. He had seen the way she had reacted when her phone went off. He was about to tell her this when it buzzed again. He looked at the message.

_Got a bit of a headache, do we Sherly? X_

Sherlock hit reply and wrote furiously back. "Sherlock," Arianna started, "Don't-" He held up a hand to cut her off and pressed send.

_Do __**not**__ call me Sherly. SH_

A few seconds later the phone buzzed again.

_Not a very good come back for our first time having a conversation since your accident. I'm disappointed. Although, at least you're responding. My little flower was refusing to do so. Quite rude if you ask me. X_

A flash of fresh anger surged through him at the word "my."

While he was distracted Arianna snatched the phone from him.

"My phone, my texts," she said firmly. Her shaking hands betrayed her though. Lack of sleep was beginning to destroy her ability to pretend like she wasn't scared. Sherlock put his hands on her face and kissed her forehead.

"Everything will be alright, I promise."

Arianna nodded. The kettle whistled loudly, causing Sherlock to grimace in pain.

"Go sit in the living room. I'll bring you your tea."

As she poured Sherlock's tea, her phone buzzed. She sighed and picked it up.

_You are mine. X_

Her shoulders clenched and her hands shook.

"No," she whispered, "I'm my own. Nobody owns me."

She would make it out of this, just like she always did. Just like Sherlock said.

Everything would be alright.


	32. Thinking

_Hey guys! Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm OVERJOYED that you like it! Sorry that I didn't update sooner, I was in Mexico for a week. (just like John :D) This chapter isn't as long, but I thought I'd try something. You'll see at the end of the chapter! ;)_

John and Jamie were due to leave on the 8th of January. They spent the week after their New Year's celebration packing and preparing for their trip. They paused however on the 6th, to celebrate Sherlock's birthday. They had a party that night, and invited the usual guests.

"Wow, three parties in two weeks! I think I may be a bit old for this," Lestrade laughed.

For some strange reason, Sherlock had vehemently forbidden them from getting him birthday presents. Arianna had no idea why. When she had tried to ask him about it though, he immediately shut her down and changed the subject. She decided it would be best to let it alone for now.

She made him a cake instead, and they all sang him happy birthday before he blew out the candles. He had a peculiar look on his face as they sang to him, but before Arianna could deduce what it was, he pulled his usual blank face of indifference over it. After they passed out the cake they all sat and chatted. The party ended much earlier than the Christmas and New Year's had, and less than two hours later, the guests started to leave. Arianna was about to close the door behind Molly as she left, when she felt something at the back of her neck, a nagging, itching feeling. It took her a moment to recognize it. Someone was watching her. She looked around but saw nothing. She squinted into the dark night. Then she saw it. A man was standing against a wall across the street, in the shadow of the building. A fedora covered his face, but she knew who it was. She gulped.

Some idiotic and self destructive part of her whispered for her to go to him. _Just get it over with,_ it said,_ he'll get you eventually. It'd be best to go willingly._ But she couldn't, not on Sherlock's birthday. So she quickly closed the door and went up the stairs, her pace faster than normal.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked from his chair as she reached the top of the stairs.

"What makes you think something is wrong?" she responded quickly.

"You came up the stairs too fast. Surely you know that already." He narrowed his eyes at her, studying her. She fidgeted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing stare.

"It was just cold and I was trying to get away from the air that had come in through the door," she lied, knowing that he wouldn't believe it for a second. She went to him and sat on his lap, burying her face in his shoulder and neck. He lightly placed a hand on her back. She could feel the question in his touch.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

John came into the living room and looked at them. He looked confused, like he wanted to ask them something but thought it would be best not to.

"Just go ahead and ask John, we won't be offended," Arianna said.

John shifted uncomfortably, not at all surprised that she knew what he was thinking. "Well…" he said, "I was just wondering… Since you two are together and stuff… Does that mean Sherlock's not asexual anymore? Can that change?"

"Oh, well that's easy," she smiled.

"It is?"

"It is?" Sherlock looked at her, just as confused as John.

"Yeah. He was never asexual in the first place."

"What?" Sherlock and John asked simultaneously

Arianna laughed, "What you are is demisexual." When the men gave no sign of recognition she continued, "Demisexual means that you can't be sexually attracted to someone unless you have a deep emotional connection with them. Sherlock is the perfect personification of the concept of 'waiting for the right person to come along.' He was never romantically interested in anyone before. Therefore, he was never sexually attracted to anyone."

"Oh…" John said thoughtfully, "Alright. Thanks. That clears stuff up. Just remember not to do anything illegal."

"Please stop saying illegal John," Arianna sighed, "there's no law against it. Not here anyway. It's just frowned upon by society." And there was plenty of things that Sherlock did that was frowned upon by society.

John couldn't think of a reply to that, his face turning a bit pink.

Sherlock was silent, a look of deep concentration etched onto his face.

"Well… I'll be going upstairs now," John said awkwardly, "Night."

"Goodnight," Arianna said cheerfully.

When John had disappeared from the staircase, she turned back to Sherlock. He was still deep in thought.

"Sherlock, are you okay?"

He looked at her the way a child might look at a magician after watching them somehow magically pull a coin from behind his ear, with awe and confusion. His eyes pierced into hers, searching for some hidden answer that she didn't know the question to.

"Sherlock…?"

"How can you understand me with such ease?" he almost looked frustrated, "How could you deduce something about me that I didn't even know myself? I had been wondering this myself for quite a while now. I couldn't figure it out, but your answer makes all too much sense. It sounds exactly right, waiting for the right person." Yes. It definitely did. She was the right person. The perfect person, for him. She fit him like a puzzle piece. He had been so sure that he didn't want any of this, sex, relationships, caring for people in general. But it was like sitting at the dinner table as a child, convinced that you weren't hungry, until you saw something that convinced you that perhaps there was room in your stomach after all.

"I'm sure that if you had known the term, you would have known that that's what you were," Arianna smiled reassuringly.

"Is there anything you can't do?" He asked, exasperated.

Arianna laughed, "There's plenty."

"Such as…?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Well uh… I'm not very good at drawing… Or math. I hate math. I'm not good at talking to large groups of people either. And I'm sure I could think of more if given enough time."

Sherlock gave her a scowl that told her it wasn't enough. All of those were things that hardly mattered.

"Well it's not like you can talk!" she frowned, "There's barely anything you can't do. Why would I want to be good at less things? How would I keep up with you?"

"You keep up with me just fine…"

"Right."

"For one thing, I can't dance, or sing. I'm bad at understanding people. I'm bad at everything that has to do with interacting with people actually."

"No you're not…" Arianna said soothingly, "You've gotten better with people. And also, it's okay to not be good at some things. Especially if you're as fantastic at the things you're good at. All the things I'm good at I'm only pretty good at it. I'm not really that great at dancing, I just look better in comparison to you. I may be smart, but you're nothing short of a genius. No one is better than you at what you do." She stroked his hair affectionately, "You are an incredible man Sherlock Holmes. Don't you dare get insecure."

Sherlock buried his face into her shoulder.

"Oh, and my handwriting is absolutely terrible," She chuckled. Sherlock's handwriting was completely elegant of course.

Low laughter rumbled from his chest against her. She drew in closer to the feeling.

"Happy birthday," she said quietly.

* * *

221B felt very empty. John had gone and there seemed to be a huge gaping hole in the place where he would have been reading the paper that morning. He and Jamie had left, giving Arianna a thousand new words of gratitude. They would be back in a little over a week. It was going to be strange without John around. Part of Sherlock was alive and excited though at the idea of being alone with Arianna for over a week. Not to mention he didn't have to conform to John's rules of propriety anymore. He could walk around the flat in just his boxers now if he wanted, maybe even less.

He decided to celebrate this freedom on the third day of John's vacation. So Arianna awoke that morning to Sherlock playing the violin in only his underwear. She blinked up at him, wondering if perhaps this was just a dream.

"…Sherlock? Why aren't you wearing any pants…?"

"I am." He didn't stop playing.

"No… you're only wearing underwear."

"Well, here we call them pants. You stated that I wasn't wearing pants, but I am."

Arianna rolled her eyes, "No need to be a smartass. You know what I meant. Why aren't you wearing more clothes?"

"Because I don't have to," Sherlock stated simply.

She laughed, "Alrighty then. I'm not complaining." She definitely didn't mind. His pale white body was like a chiseled work of art. And now she was allowed to stare. He was hers.

She got out of her bed and walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his middle. His white skin was cold against hers, which was still holding it's warmth from underneath her blankets. She felt his muscles relax underneath her as he melted into her warmth. He set the violin down next to him and turned around so that he could return the embrace. Though he seemed calm, there was still a sort of nervousness in his touch.

Arianna had expected his inner animal to emerge when they had the house to themselves. But instead he seemed horribly timid, and didn't try to get into her bed even once. She was very surprised at first, and even a little disappointed, which surprised her even more. She would have expected herself to be relieved at his lack of strong advances. She could practically hear his mind whirring as she hugged him, and she knew the problem. All of his previous outbursts had been spur-of-the-moment type affairs. Now that they had all the time in the world, he had all that time to think about it. He was nervous because he was probably thinking about all of his inexperience and playing scenarios in his head where everything went wrong.

"You think too much…" she murmured.

Sherlock sighed heavily, "I do.."

She pulled away and got up on her tip toes to plant a kiss on his lips. Her hands slid up to his chest, which had started to grow warmer with her touch. As she traced her fingers down his chest she felt his muscles tighten again. He stepped back.

"I think that I've grown tired of this experiment," he said, looking away.

Arianna's heart stopped. "Experiment?" she said, her voice no louder than a cracked whisper. Five thousand thoughts ran through her head at once. Was that why his passions had faded? Was all this an experiment? Was he using her to study the idea of romance? No. It couldn't be. Her hands started to shake a little.

Sherlock heard the tone in her voice and looked back at her quickly.

"I mean walking around in just my pants. It wasn't as pleasant as I expected. It's cold and people were staring at me from outside while I was playing."

Arianna sighed with relief, almost sagging down to the ground. She felt a bit dizzy. "Well maybe you shouldn't play your violin right next to the window."

"Looking outside helps me think," Sherlock scowled.

"Well then maybe you should consider wearing clothes."

"Yes… I'll go do that."

She stuck her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, "Or you could not…"

Sherlock swallowed audibly, nervousness written boldly on his face.

"Stop. Thinking." She said, pulling him close again. She made a line of kisses from his collarbone up to his neck. Feeling his breath quicken, she gently bit his ear lobe, savoring the shiver that went through his body.

"I-I" Sherlock stuttered.

Arianna pulled back and sighed, frustrated. "Why are you being so insecure all of a sudden? It's not like I'm an expert on this. My previous experiences haven't exactly made the bar very high." He stared at her for a few moments before answering.

"It's not just that," Sherlock said, casting his eyes down to the ground, "Moriarty is probably watching us." The thought of James Moriarty witnessing his stumbling attempts at sexual interactions was more than he could bear.

She thought about this for a few seconds. He was right of course. But would they have to spend every day in fear of him? The idea of not ever touching Sherlock in fear of being seen by Moriarty was more than _she _could bear.

"This is exactly what he wants. He wants us to be scared. He wants us to be pulled apart because we're afraid of his watch on us. I don't want that. Don't give him what he wants. You're all for foiling his plans right?"

Sherlock nodded, still looking at the ground.

"Then come here," she took his arm and pulled him to her again. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought his face down to hers and kissed him heatedly. She could feel Sherlock's surprise. She had never been one to initiate.

Normally he would have responded with vigor, but something in him was just making that impossible. He had never been so hesitant with anything. He could feel her frustration as she pressed closer to him, lowering her hands from his neck so that she could take his and place them on her waist. He struggled to stop thinking, to get his mind to go blank. It was proving to be an incredibly difficult task. In fact, his mind was far away from what was physically going on that he hardly noticed when she stopped kissing him and let out an exasperated huff.

Arianna took his hand and pulled him towards his bedroom. She had started to take it personally. It had become a challenge, and she was ready to take it on. She sat him down on the bed where he looked almost blankly up at her.

"I _will_ get you to stop thinking," she said in a low voice that was almost a growl. She slipped her sweatpants off and stood before him in just her t-shirt and underwear, waiting for some sort of reaction. When she wasn't awarded with one she briskly closed the distance between them, straddling him as she crushed her mouth against his. Winding her fingers into his hair she continued to kiss him, without pausing for a breath. Her tongue assaulted his desperately, her entire being begging for a response. Sherlock struggled to keep up with her pace, putting his hands on her waist. But he couldn't summon anything more than that.

Arianna abruptly broke away. She rested her head on his shoulder in defeat.

"Sherlock…" she whispered, her voice dejected and sounding close to tears, "don't let him ruin us…"

Something stirred inside Sherlock. Moriarty had taken John away from him for over almost two years. Would he let him take her too? Arianna belonged to _him, _and what Moriarty was doing now was claiming her as his. He shouldn't have to be afraid to touch her because of another man because she was Sherlock's, and Sherlock's alone. He would prove it. He would show Moriarty who she really belonged to. He tightened his grip on her waist, placing a soft kiss on her neck.

Arianna raised her head, looking at him, her eyes just a bit teary. Sherlock pulled her closer, kissing her deeply as he felt her relax. He could feel her relief and hope emanating from her hands, which were buried in his curls. He began to kiss her more energetically, his hands traveling up and under her shirt. Arianna untangled her fingers from his hair and reached down to the bottom of her shirt. Leaning back slightly, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it across the room. Sherlock pulled her back to him, breath catching at the unfamiliar feeling of her bare breasts against his chest. He trailed kisses down her neck and shoulders but had a hard time venturing down further because of their position. Wrapping his arms completely around her waist, he turned around, tossing her onto her back on the bed.

Arianna shivered as he hovered over her, brushing his lips in a line against her collarbone and down her chest. She could feel his breath whisper on her breasts, his lips a hairsbreadth away as he hesitated for a fraction of a second. She thought she might go insane from the suspense, her back arching up. Then he took a deep breath and lowered his face, taking her into his mouth. Arianna let out a small gasp as his perfect baby doll lips closed around her nipple gently.

Her noises of approval fueling his confidence, Sherlock began to become less hesitant, his tongue venturing out and tracing circles. Arianna's gasps turned into soft moans, her fingers digging into the bed and clutching the sheets. He let go of her nipple with a small pop and moved over to her other breast. Her breathing rate increased even more as he worked over that side as well. He could start to feel his cock straining against his underwear. Releasing her nipple again, he trailed kisses from the middle of her chest down to her navel. He started to hesitate again, wondering if perhaps Arianna didn't want to go any farther. But when he looked up at her there was no sense of fear in her eyes, only an unfamiliar glint of lust. He took it as a sign of approval, and continued downwards until suddenly, as he reached the the top of her underwear, the chime of the doorbell rang through the house.

They both froze. About seven seconds later, the door bell rang again. Arianna and Sherlock groaned simultaneously, "Lestrade." They had to get up now. If it had been a client, they would have just left if no one came to answer the door. Lestrade would be letting himself in within the next two and a half minutes. Sherlock started to get up. Arianna made a sound of disapproval.

"Come on, we only have about one minute and forty-five seconds left," Sherlock said.

"Can't we just stay in here and lock the bedroom door?" she whined back.

"If we do, he'll either assume we're not home and sit in the living room until we return, or try to look in my room and find the door locked and kick it in when I don't respond." As tempting as that sounded.

Arianna already knew this of course, but sometimes it was nice to hope. She groaned and got up, "I guess I'll go get dressed."

Sherlock stepped in front of her as she started to step away from the bed, putting his hands on her arms and tilting his head to kiss her forehead. She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. When they pulled away, Sherlock placed his chin on top of her head and said, in a voice barely above a whisper,

"I love you…"

Arianna froze, her eyes widening. She stepped back, looking up at him in shock. She could see the surprise in his eyes as well, as if he hadn't been expecting it himself. She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Her heart raced, but her mind had come to a screeching halt.

"I-" she started. Then they heard the door open downstairs.

"Sherlock?" Lestrade called, "I'm coming in!"

Arianna cursed under her breath and scampered out of Sherlock's room and to her closet in the living room, closing the door just as she heard Lestrade coming into the room. She slumped against the door, chest heaving and eyes wide. What? Sherlock had just said that he… She ran her hands over her face. That sentence was one of the last things she'd ever expect Sherlock Holmes to utter. What on earth had made him say that?

But how did she feel? That was the real question. Was she ready for that? Would it be wise, to be in love with a man ten years older than her, a man that could die at any second from his dangerous life, someone who endangered her life every second that she was near him? Of course it wasn't. And she had always lead her heart with logic. Everything about loving Sherlock Holmes was illogical. There wasn't time to think about this though. Lestrade was right outside her closet door. She could hear him calling Sherlock's name. She quickly got dressed and stepped out the door.

Sherlock had already gotten dressed and was sitting in the living room talking to Lestrade. His eyes stayed locked on him when she walked into the room. Lestrade however looked up at her questioningly.

"What were you doing in the closet?"

"Getting dressed," she raised her eyebrows innocently. She wasn't lying after all. "What's up?"

"We have a bit of a problem…"

_How do you like that cliff hanger on the romance story? :P I wonder what she'll say when they finally have the time to discuss it.. hmm.. We'll have to wait and see ;)_

_So, here's the experiment! I'm going to let you decide what Lestrade has come to tell them! I'll make it a multiple choice thing so it'll be easier for you guys._

_Option 1: The station received a threat letter from Moriarty for Sherlock and Arianna_

_Option 2: A burglary has been committed and it seems as if the culprit is trying to frame Sherlock by leaving a bunch of incriminating evidence against him_

_Option 3: Lestrade's squad has mysteriously disappeared, including Donovan and Anderson_

_Option 4: A boy turned up at the police station looking for Sherlock. Why he is looking for him will be a surprise :3_

_Option 5: If you have any ideas that you've really wanted to see, just post those! If I see one I really like, I might pick it!_

_Bye loves! 3_


	33. Small Battles Won Are the Most Important

_Yeah, this one took a long time to write. I don't know why but it was like yanking out teeth. This one is by far the longest one I've written so far though. (31 pages!) I ended up doing mix of the choices because I'm indecisive like that. Thanks for your reviews! I hope you like it! :D_

"I went into work today, and everyone was just gone," Lestrade ran his fingers through his hair. "At first I thought maybe I had accidentally come in on a holiday, or an hour early, but I wasn't! Nobody was there. I tried calling them, but all of the phones went straight to voicemail." He put his face in his hands, "How does someone manage to kidnap THAT many people?"

"If they've been kidnapped," Sherlock said, "They could have all just been killed. It'd be much simpler."

Lestrade paled. Arianna elbowed Sherlock in the ribs. "I'm sure they aren't dead. Considering the size of this, it's probably Moriarty. He loves to play games, and it'd hardly be a game if he just killed them all. We'll probably get some sort of message from him soon."

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Arianna stood to go get it.

"No." Sherlock said firmly, standing to get it himself. She looked at him, confused, but he still refused to meet her eyes. She sat back down, her brow furrowed.

"Everything alright?" Lestrade asked, watching her intently.

"Yeah," she replied, frowning slightly. Had her lack of response upset him? Probably. She felt a bit queasy. It was only because they didn't have time, surely he realized that?

"He just doesn't want to put you in danger by going down there yourself," Lestrade interrupted her thoughts.

"I know," she nodded, "I'm not a child though. I can protect myself."

Lestrade laughed, "You are though! You're only seventeen."

Arianna scowled, "Only by two months. Besides, I don't think a simple number should determine my maturity, or whether or not I'm an adult. I've seen and gone through much more than many people twice my age have. If the thing that makes a child a child is innocence, what innocence do I have left to lose that would finally make me qualify as an adult? With all that I've seen and done? I've almost killed a man before, and I'll be surprised if I manage to make it out of all this without doing so. So please," she said firmly, "don't treat me like a helpless child."

They heard the door slam shut. Sherlock appeared at the top of the stairs. They looked at him expectantly.

"It wasn't him, it was some child. He said he was looking for his father or something. I don't have time for another case," he scowled.

"What?!" Arianna jumped up, "How old was he?"

"I'd say around five."

"You can't just leave a lot five-year old outside like that!" Arianna rushed past him and went down the stairs and opened the door. She looked down to see the boy still standing there. He looked up at her with bright blue eyes that peered out from behind his thick curly hair.

"I'm looking for my father," he announced, "But he slammed the door in my face." His speech was surprisingly clear for a boy his age.

"You're looking for Sherlock Holmes?" The boy nodded. Arianna looked around outside before picking him up. Sherlock shouldn't have turned him down like that. This boy needed their help. She closed the door and carried him upstairs. "How old are you?" she asked.

"Five and a half," The boy replied proudly.

When she returned to the living room, Sherlock was seated again and talking to Lestrade.

"Put me down," the boy said. Surprised by the command in his tone, she did as he said. He walked up to Sherlock, who didn't look at him until he felt a tug on his sleeve. "Why did you shut the door on me father?"

Both Lestrade and Arianna's jaws dropped. Sherlock's eyes widened with confusion.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked you why you shut the door on me," the boy's face of impatience suddenly resembling Sherlock's so much that Arianna nearly choked on nothing.

Her mind flew. So when he had said, "he slammed the door in my face," it was a continuation of his statement that he was looking for his father, saying that Sherlock was his father. She gulped. How on earth could Sherlock have a son? He had never… Well, he had never really said that he was a virgin… But he had certainly implied it by saying other things. Looking closely at the boy she could see the startling resemblance. His clear blue eyes, curly black hair, and dainty lips matching Sherlock's almost perfectly. Not to mention his apparent high intelligence for someone his age.

"Yes, I understand that part. But why did you call me father?" Sherlock said, his expression unreadable.

"Because you are my father. You are Sherlock Holmes aren't you? Uncle Jim told me to come here to find you." The boy stared at him, confusion starting to spread over his face as well.

Sherlock stiffened. "Yes I am Sherlock Holmes, but I'm afraid I don't have a son." So Moriarty had sent him. Perfect, absolutely perfect. That was exactly what he needed, a small child under idiotic delusions.

Arianna frowned. She hoped that the boy wouldn't get upset.

"Uncle Jim said you might say that," the boy said indifferently, "Because you wanted to keep it a secret. But I'm sure Mr. Lestrade won't tell anyone. Right?" He looked up at Lestrade, who was still staring with his mouth open. He coughed a bit,

"Uh, yes of course."

The boy smiled at him and looked back to Sherlock, "Where's Uncle John? And is that girl who let me in my sister Arianna?"

Arianna and Sherlock both flinched at the word sister. Moriarty must have enjoyed that little jab. Arianna could see that Sherlock was starting to lose his self control so she quickly went up to the boy and kneeled beside him.

"Yeah I'm Arianna," she smiled, "But I never asked what your name was."

"My name is Layton. Layton Holmes." She saw Sherlock clench his fist at "Holmes."

"Well that is a very nice name, Layton." Honestly it was a very odd name, but then again all of the Holmes' seemed to have strange names.

"Uncle Jim told me I was supposed to give you this," he reached inside his coat and pulled out a rose. He held it out to her and smiled at her expectantly.

Arianna tried not to recoil at the smell and sight of the flower. She smiled and took it from him, holding it between her forefinger and her thumb, trying to have as little contact with it as possible.

"Thank you," she said, "it's very nice."

"And I have a letter for father," Sherlock winced again at the word father.

"Give it to me," he said quickly and somewhat harshly. The boy looked hurt. "Please?" Sherlock sighed exasperatedly.

The boy took a letter out of his pocket and handed it to Sherlock. Sherlock tore it open and started to read.

_Hello Sherly!_

_I've got a present for you! Isn't he adorable? I've also got a bit of a challenge for you. As I'm sure you already know, I have a few officers with me. It's quite a party! The rules are simple. Keep the boy happy. Don't tell him that he isn't your son, and let him believe what he wants about the rest of his "family." Every three hours that you keep this up, will count as one person freed. If you do something to make him unhappy however, I will lower your score by one hour. Once you have acquired enough hours to account for all of the party guests, I will tell you their location. Try to find them on your own, they die. Oh, and one final rule; don't have my little flower doing all of the work. __You__ must take care of him. He is your son, not hers. Have fun._

_Much love,_

_ Uncle Jim._

Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair. "Lestade, how many workers were there on your crew?"

"Fourty-four."

Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose, "So that's about five and half days. John gets back in exactly a week. So we should be rid of this problem before John comes home." Thank goodness.

"What?" Lestrade said, confused. Sherlock handed him the letter.

"What problem?" Layton asked.

"There's no problem," Arianna said quickly, "Did you bring anything else with you? Other clothes maybe?"

"Yeah," Layton nodded, "I left my suitcase outside."

"Okay, how about we go get that?"

They left the living room as Lestrade finished reading the letter. He sighed. "Five days? I really hope nothing happens in that time…"

Sherlock was silent.

"So… you have a son?"

"What? Of course not! I thought that was obvious!" Sherlock snapped.

"Well not really. He looks just like you. And it says in here that he's your son."

"It says that I'm not supposed to tell him that I'm not his father, isn't that enough?"

"Well, it says not to tell him that, not that it's not true."

"I assure you, I have no son."

"Are you sure? Maybe it happened during your …habit… so you don't remember it well. Maybe you weren't coherent enough to use protection and-"

"Lestrade! I have no son. End of story." He knew very well that Layton was too young for it to be that.

Lestrade looked as if he was going to say something else, but Arianna and Layton were coming back up the stairs, so he fell silent.

"You might as well leave," Sherlock grumbled, "There's nothing else you can do to get your men back."

Lestrade reluctantly agreed before getting up and leaving the flat. Sherlock rubbed his temples and turned his attention to Arianna and the boy. She had him on her lap and was listening to him talk about his life back "home."

"Uncle Jim got me a puppy for my birthday! I had to leave him behind to come here," he frowned as he said that, but a grin appeared on his face a few seconds later. "But it's okay because I get to be with father now!" Arianna couldn't help but smile. Layton was a beautiful little boy just like his father. Well, his supposed father. He had the same delicate lips and bright blue eyes that were framed by thick eyelashes. His cheeks were round and rosy and his face was framed with silky black hair that curled in a perfect mess.

Sherlock on the other hand, was nowhere near smiling. He didn't like that Arianna was warming up to the boy. Soon she would want to keep him. And there was no way he was allowing that child to stay here any longer than needed.

"So, I have a question," Arianna asked Layton, "If Sherlock is your father, who is your mother?"

Sherlock didn't like the way she had said that, as if she also believed that this child was his son. Although, they were supposed to be pretending that he was. But she hadn't read the letter, so she didn't know that. Surely she couldn't possibly believe that he belonged to Sherlock. She knew of his inexperience. Though, inexperience didn't necessarily mean complete innocence of. He cursed silently. He would have to straighten this up with her later while the boy wasn't around.

"Mother is beautiful!" Layton exclaimed, "She looks just like me and father except that her hair is long and straight. She wears bright red lipstick and very nice clothes. But," his face fell, "she left a few years ago. I don't really remember much about her except for the photos Uncle Jim gave me."

Was it just Arianna's imagination, or did this woman sound like Irene Adler? Irene had "died" a few years ago, and the description Layton had given her certainly fit. And there was that history between her and Sherlock that was unknown to Arianna. The way Irene had spoken of their past had sounded very suggestive.

"Can you show me one of the pictures?"

Layton nodded and slid off of her lap, going to his suitcase. He opened it and dug through his things before pulling out a folded photograph. He brought it back to Arianna and handed it to her. She slowly unfolded it and her suspicions were confirmed. In the picture stood Irene Adler, there was no doubt about it. She definitely was beautiful.

She grimaced slightly and held the picture out for Sherlock to grab. Sherlock stood and took it from her, his eyes widening as he recognized The Woman as well.

Sherlock's mind was reeling. Moriarty had gotten ahold of Irene as well? Was that how she managed to safely abandon her secret life in the United States and come to London unharmed? He wondered if she had planted any security cameras, and that was how Moriarty had been spying on them this whole time. But he did regular checks for cameras. Surely he would have seen one. His thoughts were interrupted by a tugging on his trouser leg. He looked down to see Layton holding his arms up at him, like he was trying to reach something. Sherlock stared, perplexed. What was the boy trying to do?

Arianna coughed and muttered, "Sherlock, he wants you to pick him up."

"Oh." Sherlock said, his face blank. He continued to look down at the boy who was now impatiently wiggling his fingers with his arms still in a raised position. He hesitated for a moment, before awkwardly scooping up the boy and holding him around his waist and up against his chest and shoulder.

"Uh Sherlock that's not-"

"Hush I know how to carry a child," He snapped.

"That's how you carry a baby," Arianna said, standing as well. "He's too big to just leave his legs hanging like that." Holding her arms out to Layton, who looked grateful to escape the discomfort of Sherlock's grip, she took him from Sherlock. She let the boys legs open and cling onto her, setting him on her hip, wrapping her arms around him and letting him put his arms around her neck. "This is how you carry a kid."

Sherlock scowled at her and reached his arms out. Layton leaned into them and Sherlock managed to copy Arianna's demonstration almost perfectly. He didn't really have the hips to comfortably place him there like she had, but he could do basically the same thing on his front side where he could wraps his arms underneath the boy like a swing. Layton smiled up at him.

"Father, mother said you were the cleverest man in the world. Is that true?"

"I'd certainly say that I'm at least in the top ten," Sherlock said, obviously fighting a smile.

"When I grow up, I wanna be clever just like you!"

Sherlock struggled to come up with a response. He wasn't the nurturing type in the slightest. Then he got an idea.

"Well then, you had better start practicing," he said in a very serious tone.

"Practicing?"

"Yes," he set the boy down and squatted in front of him, "You'll need to build your mind palace."

"My mind palace?"

"Yes. It's a place that you build inside your head so that you can go in there and be alone to look at and store your thoughts."

"So, I make up a castle in my head?"

"It doesn't have to be a castle, it can be anything you like," he flashed a fake smile, "And I'll tell you what. I'll even let you sit on my bed. That's where I like to think. It's absolutely the best place for building mind palaces."

Layton's face lit up like a christmas tree, "Really?"

"Yes really."

With that Sherlock led him to his room and sat him down on the bed. After making sure the boy was settled, he turned and left the room. In there he found Arianna smiling at him like a loon.

"What?" he scowled.

"That was really good. Who'd have known? Sherlock Holmes is good with kids."

Sherlock scoffed, "It was exhausting. I can't wait until he leaves."

Arianna just smiled at him and closed the distance between them. "You were very sweet. Very fatherlike."

He wrinkled his nose in distaste, "Oh god no. I hate small children."

"I don't know why, seeing as you're such a child yourself."

Sherlock made a face at her.

"He looks just like you," she said thoughtfully.

"Well Moriarty had to make sure he did, to make it seem more realistic."

"Hm," was all she said.

"What do you mean hm?" Sherlock frowned.

"Just hm."

"You believe that he's mine?" He asked incredulously.

"I am accepting the possibility," she looked up at him cooly as he was starting to lose his temper.

"He. Is. Not. Mine." He hissed between his teeth.

"Well think about it, Moriarty sent Irene to crack you years ago, maybe this was one of his plans. He definitely does think ahead."

"Yes but that would require that I engage in sexual intercourse with her," Sherlock seethed.

"Obviously."

"Do you really think that I would do that with her?"

"Well, I didn't know you back then, and the way she talks about your past makes me wonder… I don't think it'd be that hard for her to seduce anyone."

"I am not anyone."

"Sherlock you don't have to be ashamed, she's a beautiful woman. It's perfectly normal for adults to-"

"God damnit!" Sherlock nearly shouted, "I didn't have sex with her. I'm a _virgin_, for christ's sake!" he spat the word out with disgust, remembering that day when she had said that word to him, her mouth forming the slightest sly smirk.

"Are you sure that she didn't drug you and you just don't remember?"

"I'm absolutely sure. There would have been signs after I had become sober."

Arianna bit her lip, thinking.

"Okay… then why does he look so much like you?"

"Well Irene and I have very similar features, I think it's pure coincidence."

She continued to ponder.

"Please," Sherlock said, taking her hand in two of his, "I promise you that he isn't mine."

"Alright," she sighed, "I believe you." His shoulders slumped with relief.

"Thank heavens," he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"So, why is he here?"

Sherlock took the letter from the arm of his chair and handed it to her, "It's another game of Moriarty's. He might not even really be Irene's. Moriarty might have just made sure to pick a child that looked like the both of us."

Sherlock watched Arianna's eyebrows scrunch further and further together as she read through the letter. Her eyes creasing with lines of worry. When she finished she handed the letter back and rubbed her temples.

"This is even worse than I thought…"

"Why is that?"

"Well, I figured we would have to take care of him. But I'm not supposed to help too much. You'll have to take care of a kid almost completely on your own."

"What, you think I'm not capable?" Sherlock said incredulously.

"Well, I mean…" She shifted uncomfortably, "You're a lot of things Sherlock, but nurturing is not one of them."

"It can't be that hard," he sniffed, "I think I'll do just fine. I took care of you didn't I?"

"Yes, but I'm hardly a child. I can take care of myself. Layton can't cook for himself, he might need help getting dressed, you'll have to be gentle and kind, and he can't come for any of the cases because it'll be too dangerous." She put her hands on her hips, "Children aren't just like people but smaller, they have lots and lots of needs that you'll have to attend to."

Sherlock scowled. Of course he knew that. "Will you stop lecturing me? I can do this." His mouth was set in determination.

"Whatever you say," Arianna sighed.

As if on cue, they heard a call from Sherlock's room, "Father?"

Sherlock immediately started towards the room, obviously eager to prove that he was capable. Arianna smiled as he turned away from her. There was actually quite a lot of things that she knew about children, which in turn gave her a lot of knowledge on Sherlock. And she knew that the best way to make a kid want to do something, was to tell him he couldn't.

* * *

"Why can't we go to the zoo?" Layton whined.

"Because it's too late in the day," Sherlock said through gritted teeth. This fatherhood façade was turning out even harder than he expected. Who knew that children asked so many stupid questions? Everyone one but him he supposed. Layton's face scrunched up in an impressive pout.

Arianna cut in and crouched down in front of him. "How about we just go tomorrow instead?"

"But I want to go today!"

"Well, if we go now, all the animals will be asleep and it'll be too dark to see them," she tried to sound sweet without sounding like most people when they spoke to children. She hated the tone people took on with little kids. "How about we just make cookies or something tonight and I'll get us tickets for tomorrow."

The boy considered this for a while. "Can they have chocolate chips?"

"Of course!" Arianna grinned, "Those are the best kind."

Layton's smile told her that she had won. She tried to ignore Sherlock's scowl as she took his hand and led him into the kitchen.

"Will father help?" He glanced at Sherlock hopefully, who was still sitting in his chair.

"Definitely," she nodded, "Sherlock? Come on, we're making cookies. All of us."

Sherlock scowled and stood. Layton was looking at Arianna in a peculiar way.

"Is something wrong?"

"Why do you call father by his name?"

Arianna swallowed nervously, "Um, because that's just what I call him. I'm almost an adult, so it's okay." She knew that that was hardly a good reason. She would never call her real father by his first name, no matter how old she was. But she was hoping that Layton would be naïve enough to believe her.

He seemed to accept her excuse, and soon the smell of baking cookies wafted through the house. Sherlock did pretty well. When she complimented him on it he simply responded,

"It's hardly anything difficult, all you have to do is follow the instructions." Perhaps he gave her too much credit for baking, it was quite simple.

"Keep in mind that cookies are one of the easiest things to bake," she laughed.

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at her, eliciting a giggle from Layton.

When the cookies were finished, Arianna and Layton sat on the couch watching television.

"Can I have one now?" Layton asked.

"Just wait a minute or so," she responded patiently, "If we try to eat them now they'll burn our tongues."

"Then why is father getting one?"

Arianna's head shot up, "What?"

She was answered with a loud yell of pain from the kitchen.

* * *

Sherlock was cross for the rest of the night as Arianna and Layton ate cookies while watching television. A little before nine, Arianna noticed that Layton's eyes had begun to droop. She nudged Sherlock, who was deep in thought as she sat on his lap, with the small boy on hers. He shot into awareness and looked at her questioningly. She gestured to the now limp with unconsciousness boy. She started to get up but found that it would be a bit difficult to do without jostling him awake. Sherlock understood immediately and, to Arianna's surprise, snuck his arm under the crook behind her knees and wound another behind her back, picking them both up.

He set Arianna down so she was on the edge of her bed, from there she stood with Layton in her arms and lay him down on the bed. Layton stirred a bit but didn't wake up as she put her blankets over him. His face was so sweet and peaceful that she couldn't help but smile. Sherlock, however, didn't seem to feel the same way.

"Children.." he growled in a tone of disgust.

"Come on, he's not that bad."

He simply scowled. Arianna rolled her eyes, then took on a more serious tone, "We need to talk to Irene," she whispered.

Sherlock nodded, "We do. But we have to do it without letting Moriarty know." He looked around the room, "but first we need to do a sweep of the flat for bugs."

"Right," she agreed. She cursed herself for not thinking of that. If she had done it sooner, maybe Moriarty wouldn't have been able to watch her before. "But don't you think they'll be a bit hard to find? He's probably put them somewhere where you wouldn't look."

"That's why I have you," the corner of his mouth twitched up.

Arianna smiled at him, "Of course."

* * *

"I want to go see the tigers first!" Layton exclaimed as they walked through the entrance gates.

"I thought you said you wanted to see the penguins first," Arianna chuckled, squeezing his hand. Sherlock, grudgingly, held his other hand as they walked along.

"Yeah, but tigers are much fiercer! They have claws and big teeth and they can jump" he jumped in front of them, baring his teeth and holding out imaginary claws, "right onto their prey and rip their throats out!" He gnashed his teeth, growling.

"Right, of course," Arianna laughed.

"Father?" Layton craned his neck up to look at Sherlock.

"Yes?" He replied, trying his best to be amiable.

"Can I ride on your shoulders?"

Sherlock flicked his gaze to Arianna, who gave him a look that clearly said, "Come on Sherlock, it won't kill you."

"Alright," he sighed.

Layton's grin seemed to spread across his entire face as he turned around and held his arms out so that he could be picked up. Sherlock gave her a look that showed exactly how much fun he thought this was before hoisting the small boy over and behind his head, resting him on his shoulders. Layton wrapped his arms around Sherlock's forehead, who tried to ignore the discomfort. Arianna smiled at him and took his hand as they started walking again.

Arianna had almost forgotten how nice it was to visit the zoo. Layton made it even more enjoyable with his unbridled enthusiasm. Something about his pure joy was just contagious. Even after they had been roaming around for about three hours, he had never exhibited anything but excitement. Sherlock, however, was not on the same boat.

His shoulders were aching and he thought that watching animals was quite boring. There was hardly anything you could deduce about them; they didn't have interesting lives or secrets. There was nothing that he was gaining from this trip that he couldn't have learned from the comfort of his own home behind his laptop screen. He hadn't been to the zoo since he was a small boy, and they certainly weren't very fond memories. Their mother quite often brought the family on outings to try and force a sense of normalcy on them, as if they were an ordinary family like everyone else. He was off on his own train of thought as Arianna was looking with the map when she said,

"Oh, we could go feed the giraffes!" and he snapped back into attention. An image of Layton being stepped on or kicked by the giant beast played in his mind.

"Too dangerous," Sherlock said, shaking his head.

"How?" Arianna looked at him in confusion, "They're herbivores."

"They could still kick him."

She laughed, "No they can't. We're up on a platform when you feed them, they can only reach you with their heads."

"Oh. I suppose it's alright then," Sherlock frowned, a bit embarrassed. Of course the zoo would have taken safety precautions. Why hadn't he realized that?

"Sounds fantastic!" Layton exclaimed, and so it was decided.

* * *

Sherlock stayed back a few feet with his nose wrinkled in disgust as Arianna and Layton held their hands out to the giraffes. He even made a small noise of distaste when the animal stuck it's long purple tongue out and ate it. It looked simply grotesque.

"It tickles!" Layton giggled. Sherlock huffed and averted his eyes, scanning the crowd around them. It was then that his eyes caught on an unexpected figure. Not even thinking to alert Arianna to his departure, he swiftly went to follow it as it walked away. He quickened his pace until he caught up to the figure, catching her by the wrist.

"Irene."

She swerved around, he eyes wide with surprise, hand flying to her throat. She relaxed when she saw who it was.

"Mr. Holmes, what on Earth are you doing here?"

"Don't try to play with me, you know why I'm here. Why are _you_ here?" he snapped.

"Same as everyone else here, I like looking at the animals. They're so much less disgusting than humans," she sighed, "I don't know why it's used as an insult. As to why you're here, I can't say that I _do_ know."

Everything about her tone and body language suggested that she was telling the truth. He let go of her wrist.

"You didn't follow us here?"

Irene rolled her eyes, "Don't flatter yourself dear, I haven't got any reason to follow you and your little girlfriend. Speaking of which, have you gotten any-"

Sherlock cut her off, "We have Layton." He carefully paid attention to her physical reaction. First her face was painted with a brief confusion, then realization, and then relief mixed with horror.

"Layton..?" she practically whispered, "How?"

"Moriarty sent him to me as a test."

"What?" she took a step back, "But he's-"

"Not dead," Sherlock said grimly.

"Oh god," her eyes widened with fear, "does he know I'm here?"

"I don't know. But it would probably be safer for you if you left London again. Luckily for you he's been quite focused on Arianna lately, so there's a small chance that he hasn't caught wind of you yet. But you did come visit that one day, so maybe he's just let you by for his own reasons."

"Can I take Layton with me?"

"No."

"But-"

"Not for a few days. I have to take care of him or Moriarty will kill many innocent people."

"But after that?"

"I think we could arrange it, yes."

Irene sighed with relief, "Thank god. I didn't think I would ever see him again. I thought… I don't know what I thought. Is he alright?"

"He was told that I was his father," Sherlock said quietly.

The Woman turned a bit red, her forehead creasing with worry. "Did you tell him otherwise?"

"No. It's part of the challenge." Irene looked relieved. Sherlock frowned, slightly annoyed, "But I will be telling him immediately after this mess is over." He had had enough of this conversation. Turning around he said, "Goodbye for now Ms. Adler."

This time she was the one to grab him by the wrist, "No! Please. You can't tell him," she exclaimed in desperation. Sherlock turned around in frustration.

"Why? Why not? You know he is not mine. Why lie to him? Moriarty has him believing that I am his father and it is honestly quite inconvenient. It's impossible and I will not take responsibility for him."

"Jim didn't tell him that. I did," Irene said abruptly. Sherlock was silent for a moment. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Why?"

Irene laughed, "What could I tell him? That his father could be any one of the political figures that I had shagged to blackmail them about it? Or even worse, that it was a monster of a man who-" her voice broke, "What would you rather hear as a child?"

"The truth," Sherlock said coldly.

"No," she said fiercely, "I couldn't. So yes, I chose to tell him that his father was a strikingly handsome genius who helped the police catch criminals, who was brilliant and could tell you everything about anything with a single glance, and who I was very much in love with," her face showed an openness that Sherlock hadn't seen since he had discovered her phones password, "and even though it's a lie I wish very much that it was the truth, for his sake."

Sherlock's expression softened. Though he knew he would never make a good father as much as he was like his own father, though he wished so strongly that he wasn't, he couldn't help but be a bit touched by her confession. Also, now that he had a better understanding of love, even though he still believed it was a weakness, he could empathize with her far better. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if there was no chance of Arianna returning his feelings for her. Thinking of this, however, reminded him of yesterday morning, when his unexpected declaration of love had thrown her completely off guard. Her expression of shock and even a bit of fear still stung him as he thought about it now.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt if he continued to believe it," he sighed.

"Thank you," she smiled, relieved.

"I should go back," Sherlock said, "they'll be wondering where I am. And you should probably leave."

"Right. Thank you again." He flashed her a quick fake smile before turning to go back to the giraffe feeding station. When he got there Arianna shot him an angry look.

"I was worried," she whispered irritably, "luckily Layton didn't notice. Where were you?"

"I'll tell you later," he murmured back.

They turned their attention to Layton, who had apparently decided it would be a fun idea to put the feed on his face.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock exclaimed.

"I'm doing an experiment!" he said, as a giraffe stuck out its long tongue and licked the side of his face. Layton erupted into giggles of glee, "It worked!"

Arianna burst into laughter, taking out her phone. She opened her camera and got ready to take a picture as the animals head lowered again to lick the boys face.

Sherlock would never admit it, but the combined sound of their laughter had forced a smile out of him for just a moment.

* * *

After they got Layton's face cleaned up they found themselves in the gift shop.

"I should probably buy some souvenirs for my-" Arianna started, then stopped. She was going to say parents, but Layton was under the impression that Sherlock was her father. "…friends." She looked through the little trinkets while Layton wandered around with Sherlock watching him like a hawk.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have that stuffed tiger?"

Arianna looked up, worried about how Sherlock would respond.

Sherlock froze for a moment, looking down at the boys hopeful face. He looked up at the tiger that he had been pointing at.

_"Father?"_

_"Yes Sherlock?"_

_"Can I have that tiger?"_

_"Why would you want that?"_

_"Because I like it."_

_"But what use would you have for it? It will simply sit around until you tire of it and throw it out. I'm not wasting money on such childish playthings."_

_"But-"_

_"Enough boy. I'm not going to squander money on your pointless whims. Don't ask me to buy you anything unless it's useful."_

"Father?"

Sherlock snapped out of his reverie, Layton and Arianna were both staring at him. He silently reached up onto the shelf and took down the stuffed tiger. Handing it to the boy, he smiled,

"Of course."

Layton's face lit up with glee as he took it from Sherlock, hugging it tightly to his chest, "Thank you father!" He ran to Arianna, holding it up for her to see, "Look what father is going to buy me!"

"That's great!" She exclaimed, grinning, before looking up at Sherlock, her eyes searching. He shrugged. He was sure he would have to let her see that part of him eventually, Arianna wasn't one to let things go uncovered, but not today

* * *

.

"Sherlock? Sherlock."

Sherlock snapped back into awareness and looked at Arianna as she sat on his lap. She had been watching him closely for the past few days, and had seen him steadily grow warmer and warmer towards Layton. Sherlock often caught her staring and smiling, and would automatically take on a harder demeanor, but it would wear away as soon as he turned his attention back to the small boy. Sometimes whenever Layton would say something to him, Sherlock would fade off into a sort of a trance, as if he were remembering something. She always wondered what he was thinking about when he zoned out like this, so when he drifted off again after they had put Layton to bed she decided to ask him.

"Tell me about your father."

"My father?"

"Or just your family in general."

Sherlock bit his lip. He wasn't sure if he was ready to speak to her about this. He was sure she would use the information to put explanations on his behaviors. He was used to doing this to other people, he wasn't usually on the receiving end of psychological deductions.

"You don't have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. I was just wondering."

"Not much to say. Father was a businessman, busy, strict, rich, intelligent. Mother was a basic housewife, cleaned, cooked, took care of Mycroft and I. And Mycroft was… well, Mycroft."

Although all of this was true, he could never say that this even began to cover the dysfunction of the Holmes' estate. His father was strong, short-tempered, cold, but quiet. He never yelled, never laid a hand on Sherlock or Mycroft. He treated them as one would treat accessories. Appreciated, an essential part to a successful man's lifestyle, good for showing guests how wide his aptitudes extended; a business man _and_ a family man. But not loved, never loved. He was too strong and smart for that. He didn't have time to raise children, they were a means to an end, not an entire task within themselves. And what good accessories they had made, a beautiful and devoted wife who was an excellent chef, two handsome and extraordinarily intelligent boys.

That was, until Sherlock started having trouble in highschool, he didn't make such a good trophy then. He never gave Mycroft enough credit. He was the only one who seemed to accept Sherlock for what he was. Mycroft never had trouble with making friends, he was always good at worming himself into the top of the social hierarchy. But instead of shunning his freak of a brother, he quite often stood up for him against bullies, and when he was older he started going to Sherlock's conferences with his teachers in place of his parents. Then Mycroft went to a college much farther away than the first and Sherlock was alone with his parents again. He became inbalanced and angry, causing trouble and even got caught up in less than legal activities. That was when he went from a polished display on the mantle piece to a secret that was hidden away in the cellar. The most emotion that his father had ever shown for Sherlock was that shame.

His mother still tried though, because she loved him. His father was strong, she was weak. She loved them all deeply and Sherlock grew up watching her go through life in pain because she didn't have the strength to realize that she shouldn't let her feelings stray past the businesslike regard that his father held their marriage in. It was from her that he and Mycroft had learned one of their most important lessons; caring is not an advantage. He had decided that he would never let himself be weak like her. His heart would go unscathed from the terrible beast that bore the name _sentiment._

"Sherlock, you're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Going off into a completely separate universe. What are you thinking about?"

"I'd rather not say."

Arianna stared at him, her eyes unfathomable.

"What?"

"I'm going to assume that what you told me before is a complete understatement. But I'm going to leave it at that. I won't bother you about it anymore."

Sherlock buried his face in her hair, relieved, "Thank you."

"Of course."

Sherlock had half a mind to bring up what he had confessed to her a few days ago, but he liked this comfortable understand that they had right now. He didn't want to confront this problem and risk throwing them into an awkward situation. What on Earth would she say? It wasn't his biggest fear that she would say she didn't love him, he was more afraid that she would say she loved him back for his own sake. She was too selfless. Her idiotic disregard for her own wellbeing would always leave him wondering whether or not everything she said was sincere.

"I think I'll go to bed," she yawned, stretching and standing up, "You coming?"

"No, I need to talk to Mycroft."

"Alright," she bent over, giving him a light kiss before going into his room and closing the door. Sherlock pulled out his phone and dialed Mycrofts number.

"I'm assuming this is something important, given the hour?" Mycrofts phone drawled out of his phone.

"Yes, can you come? I don't want to risk being overheard."

"You're fortunate that I'm already out and about. I'll be there soon."

* * *

_Only one more day. One more day and this will all be over._

"Sherlock?"

"What?" he snapped. Arianna looked at him with wide, worried eyes. "Sorry. What is it?"

"Well I thought it might be time to give Layton a bath, he's been here for five days… He probably should have taken one a few days ago. I would do it myself… but I think this is one of those things that you're supposed to do…"

He sighed, nodding, "I suppose." Getting up, he called out, "Layton!"

"Yes father?" The boy came running from Sherlock's room where he had been playing. Sherlock ran a hand over his face as he saw what the boy was wearing. He had put on one of Sherlock's shirts on, the buttons all done up askew, a tie hanging loosely around his neck. What really surprised him, however, was his underwear that Layton was using as a hat. Arianna stifled a giggle.

"It's time for a bath," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Trying his best to keep his temper in check.

Layton wrinkled his nose, "I don't want to."

"Well you have to," Sherlock said sternly, "You want to be clean when you go back to Uncle Jim's house now don't you?"

"But, I'm not going back to Uncle Jim's house. I'm staying here forever!" Layton replied.

Sherlock froze, "Did he say that?" he said slowly.

"Yep," the boy smiled up at him. Sherlock swallowed.

"Um, how about you go get the bath started," Arianna said suddenly, "I'll help Layton get your clothes off."

"Yes, I'll do that." Sherlock started towards the bathroom. It wasn't necessarily an obstacle for his plan that Moriarty hadn't planned on taking the child back, in fact it made it easier. Now he could just give Irene the child with no problem. However, he didn't know how easy it would be to break it to the boy that he wasn't going to be living with them. He turned the handle in the bath, putting his hand underneath the flow of water to check the temperature. Deciding that it was suitable, he plugged the drain in the bath, and sat absent-mindedly staring into the water.

"Can the bath have bubbles?" he heard Layton ask.

"I don't think we have anything to make bubbles," Arianna said as they appeared in the doorway.

Layton sighed, "Okay…"

"Come on," Sherlock beckoned to him. He peeled off the remainder of the boys clothes, lifted him from under his arms, and lowered him slowly into the bathtub.

"Is the water warm enough?" Arianna asked from the doorway. Layton nodded. "Okay… I'll just go… read, or something." And before Sherlock could stop her she was gone. He turned back to the tub and turned the faucet off.

"Um, so…" he said awkwardly, "can you put your head under the water?"

Layton responded by sliding so that he was on his back under the water, little bubbles popping up to the surface before he sat up again, gasping for air and smiling triumphantly.

"Alright, now we can wash your hair." He rolled his sleeves up.

* * *

Arianna sat on her laptop. She had forgotten how far behind she was on her schoolwork. She looked up when the sounds of small running feet sounded. Layton ran past her to Sherlock's room with a towel wrapped around him. A few seconds later, a slightly disheveled and sopping wet Sherlock came from the bathroom as well. He was so wet it was almost as if he had gotten into the bathtub himself.

"Tedious," was the only thing he said while she burst into a fit of laughter. One of his curls was hanging wet and loose in his face. "You could have at least stayed and helped a little."

"Nah. I thought I'd let you have the fun," she snickered, closing her laptop.

"Really now?" A small smirk tugged at his lips, before he suddenly lurched forward towards her.

"Oh no," Arianna said, hastily putting her computer on the table next to her as Sherlock advanced. She managed to jump over the arm of the chair just in time before he reached her, his hands barely grazing her back as she rolled onto the floor. She sprang up and ran so that John's chair was between them. Sherlock grinned at her with a predatory glint in his eyes. She backed into the kitchen, circling behind the table. He followed her into the kitchen. They both stood absolutely still, contemplating which way they would go. Arianna eyed her options, Sherlock was just a bit more to the left of the table then the right, leaving a bigger space on that side. If she could just be quick enough… Without warning she launched towards the open space. But Sherlock was quicker than she was. He sprang as she passed by, catching her by the arm. However, while he had been standing there he had created a puddle on the floor, causing him to slip as he caught her. They both fell to the floor with a thud.

Sherlock wasted no time, winding his arm around her and pulling her against him. She squirmed under his grip as the water from his clothes began to soak into hers.

"Sherloockk!" she whined, "It's cold!"

He laughed, "I just thought I'd let you in on the 'fun.'" He got up on his hands and knees and bent over her so that his face was above hers. Arianna's lips reflexively parted and pushed forward, pupils dilated. Sherlock chuckled at her predictable physical reaction, before shaking his head vigorously, causing water droplets to fly out and onto her face. She scrunched her eyes shut and brought her hands up in a defensive gesture.

"Hey!" she protested half-heartedly. He brought a hand up to move hers out of the way, "No, wait, what are you-" He cut her off with an abrupt kiss. He felt her body tense beneath him. Already he could feel her heart rate increasing. Fascinating, the human body was. He widened his awareness, noting the stop in her breath and the instinctive arch in her back. He could spend years like this, testing and observing all of the physical and chemical reactions he could induce with the simplest touch, word, or gesture. He broke away, watching her eyelashes flutter open, the slightest rosy tint coloring her cheeks, even though they hadn't kissed for longer than about five seconds.

Sherlock assumed it was from the rush of their game beforehand. The adrenaline of the chase heightening the senses and making arousal easier to achieve. From this proximity, he could see each of the multicolored speckles in her eyes. surprisingly, he found that he was in perfect control of his bodily instincts at the moment. His breath came out evenly, as hers stuttered and shallowed. He brushed his lips against hers for the briefest moment.

"I need to change and get Layton dressed," he murmured. He felt her body slump back down underneath him, a heavy sigh escaping her lungs.

"Wow, you just had to build the mood up like that just to crush it didn't you?"

He chuckled, raising himself away from her. Enough of the water had dripped off or evaporated so that they were both just damp. He stood and started to undo his shirt. Arianna pushed herself up into a sitting position and froze at the sight of his now bare chest. He didn't notice her staring until he had his shirt completely undone. He flashed her a sly grin before turning and going to his room.

"Cheeky bastard…" Arianna muttered to herself, standing up as well as he disappeared into his room. She went through the living room to her closet. When she came out, Sherlock and Layton were in the kitchen, Layton eating a bowl of cereal. The floor had been dried with a towel that now hung over the back of a chair.

"When did we get cereal?" She asked, puzzled.

"I bought some last night while you were asleep," Sherlock stated nonchalantly, concentrating on the files in front of him.

"Oh… And the milk too?"

"Mhm."

"Wow."

"What?" Sherlock snapped his head up to look at her.

"Nothing," Arianna chirped. He gave her a searching look before returning to his papers. She watched them with a slight smile on her face. In the beginning, Sherlock always tried to keep as much space as possible between him and Layton, but now their chairs were so close that their arms brushed against each other every time one of them moved.

She knew he would never admit it, but she could tell he had developed a bit of a fondness for the boy. But, though this was probably very healthy for him, she knew it would be for the best when Layton finally left. Sherlock was not equipped to handle a child for more than a short period of time, and although they were getting along now, she knew that it would never last. It would be something she would have to take into consideration later in their lives.

Wait. What was she thinking? She was only seventeen. Now was not the time for thinking about having children. Hell, her relationship with Sherlock could be over tomorrow, as fickle as he was. No, as fickle as everything was. He could get bored, she could accidentally hurt him and cause him to retract into his shell, one of them could die. There was no certainty in her life now. This thought sent a chill down her spine. As much as the adventurous life seemed to suit her, the feeling of inevitable death, heart break, or both, sent an unfamiliar ache through her stomach for her old, safe life. But there was no going back now. Even if she returned to America, Moriarty would still want her heart on a silver platter, she wouldn't be able to look at anyone without knowing all their deepest darkest secrets. Not only that, but she would always be paranoid, unable to sleep without a gun nearby, always afraid to trust. The ache turned into a cold dead weight. What had she gotten herself into? Why couldn't she have gotten a normal host family? Why hadn't she just let Sherlock ignore her? She shouldn't have let her pride make her demand his attention. She should have gone home after the men had ripped her from the shower and ripped away her innocence. She hadn't even let her mother know. She had made Mycroft and Lestrade swear not to tell her parents. When she went back it would be a secret that she would hold and would weigh her down everyday with no chance of escape. The chill crept into her chest as she began hyperventilating.

She quickly turned and practically ran back into her closet. She couldn't let them see her panicking. She was such an idiot. Why had she let herself become so attached to Sherlock and John? Why had she let herself fall in- love? Was this love, what she felt? Surely it was. She didn't know why people made it all so complicated. The supposed great difference between "liking" and "loving" someone didn't make sense to her. Wasn't there supposed to be some huge step for her to take to be officially in love? She hadn't felt any great change. Was love the realization of the pain it would cause to lose or be left by the object of her infatuation? She sat down on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest.

Maybe love was just a deep and personal friendship, plus a romantic fixation. That was the closest definition she could muster up. You could like someone that you barely knew because you were drawn in by their personality, but that couldn't be love, not until there was a personal connection. Maybe you had to love someone before you could fall _in_ love with them. Or… maybe not. Surely it was different for everyone. What she felt for Sherlock now, surely, this was love.

But, what did this mean? Was this good? Would she look back at these times with fondness instead of regret? Were the beautiful heart-soaring moments worth the inevitable pain? Her thoughts were interrupted when the door to the closet was opened, and a worried face peered inside.

"Is everything alright?" Sherlock asked quietly, concern coloring his voice.

She looked up at his worried face and felt a calm settle in her chest.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just… needed to go into my own mind palace for a bit," she smiled at him, getting up. His eyes examined her face for a few seconds before he relaxed and reached out to her, placing a hand on the back of her head and pulling him to her so he could place a kiss upon her forehead. She followed him out of the closet, the sensation of his lips still tingling on her skin.

Yes. It was definitely worth it.

* * *

Sherlock's phone finally buzzed at exactly 11:30 am with a picture message. He opened it and recognized the building within seconds. A second text was received seconds later.

_Come alone. X_

Perfect.

* * *

Arianna read the instructions Sherlock had written down for her for the fifth time.

_When I send you a text with the name of your favorite animal, go outside. Mycrofts car will be waiting for you. I will meet you where the car takes you. If you do not receive the text before exactly three o' clock, leave immediately. Mycrofts men will be under the same instruction so there will be a car waiting then as well. Until we meet again,_

_Sherlock_

He had slipped this into her pocket before he left, brushing his lips on her forehead. The lump in her throat had refused to go away since he had told her he was going alone.

"What if it's a trap?"

"It probably is," he had said in a matter-of-fact tone. She felt her face break its mask of mild concern into an expression of serious anxiety. His face softened in response, giving her a reassuring smile as he reached out and brushed her cheek with his thumb. "I will return. I always do."

She nodded, swallowing.

"Father? Where are you going?" Layton asked curiously, wondering why Arianna looked so upset.

Sherlock crouched in front of him, "I'm going to go see Uncle Jim. I'll see you and Arianna later alright?"

"Okay." Layton held his arms up. To Arianna's surprise, Sherlock leaned forward and gave the boy a hug, letting his arms wrap around his neck. Sherlock stood up straight and gave Arianna one last searching look, before he turned and left.

She had to fight the urge to run after him.

_I love you_

But she didn't want him to think she was just saying it because she was afraid she wouldn't see him again, even though she was. She wanted him to know that she meant it. She would tell him when he came back. And he _would_ come back. If he didn't she would hunt him down herself.

_You had better come back._

* * *

Sherlock observed the area around the warehouse. He didn't see any snipers. There were no guards outside. How had Moriarty kept them from trying to escape then? He slowly approached the building, senses sharp. The door creaked as he opened it, his footsteps echoing against the walls of the large empty room. He looked around as he continued to the center of the room. He saw the red blinking lights of security cameras high on the walls. Only one flickering light provided sight within the warehouse. There was a faint smell of gasoline in the air.

He looked down as he heard the clank of a can that he had kicked. It was a can of red spray paint. He kneeled down to pick it up. It was then that he noticed the red lines weaving around him. He stood back up, looking at the ground. A giant rose was painted on the floor in black and red. His fists clenched.

"Holmes!" he heard a muffled yell to his left. He squinted into the darkness. There was a door, through the window he could see the face of none other than Sally Donovan. He crossed to the door. Stooping down, he observed the handle of the door.

"What are you doing? Let us out!" Donovan yelled at him through the glass.

"Do shut up," Sherlock snapped, "Or I'll just leave you in there." The door was locked. "Stand back from the door," he said loudly. He waited until Donovan's face disappeared before pulling out his gun and aiming it at the wall where the latch would be. He lifted an arm to cover his face before firing twice. He put the gun back in his pocket and yanked open the door.

"Oh thank god," one of the people inside said. He went into the storage room, surprised to find that the accommodations weren't all that horrible. There were stale biscuits on the shelves along with bottles of water, and on the far side of the room there was a door that led to what looked like a bathroom. A few people started to move towards the door.

"Wait," Sherlock barked, "this was too easy."

"Rubbish," sneered the familiar irritating voice of Anderson, "I say we get out of here now. I've spent enough time in this hell hole."

"As usual your idiocy is practically blinding Anderson," Sherlock replied, "You do not know the man who held you here as I do. He would not tell me to come alone if it was this simple."

"You didn't come alone, though, did you?" Donovan asked.

"I did."

"You have got to be kidd-"

"This man is not to be taken lightly. Now shut up. I need to figure out what's wrong. I assure you, there is something."

As if on cue, a faint beeping noise sounded from out in the main room. A panicked murmur ran through the room. Sherlock looked out the door of the storage room. He couldn't see anything new.

"Come," he ordered. They started to gather behind him at the door when the beeping increased frequency. They all froze as the beeping got faster and faster.

"We should have left," Anderson whined, "We could have been out by now."

"I have a feeling this isn't based on time, but on where we are." He took a step forward, and sure enough the frequency increased even further. "Stay where you are."

He took a few more steps forward. The beeping stopped abruptly, followed by a small click.

"Get back!" he yelled, jumping backwards. A flame lit on the far corner, lighting up a trail that roared all the way to the center where the rose was. That was what the gasoline smell had been. The paint had traces of gasoline in it, to make it flammable. He had to give Moriarty points for the artistic aspect of the giant flaming rose.

Something else must have been added to the paint though, the fire from the gasoline would have been lowered by now. The fire kept roaring on, growing higher and higher.

"Good going Holmes," Anderson snapped, "Now we're all going to die for sure."

"As much as I would love to leave you here to burn Anderson," Sherlock replied calmly, "I plan on getting us all out of this."

His phone rang from his pocket. He fished it out.

"Is now really the time to be answering phone calls?" Anderson said impatiently.

"I could still shoot you Anderson," Sherlock snapped before answering the phone.

"Hello Sherly."

"What do you want? These people don't have to die because of a little quarrel of ours."

"I know, I know," Moriarty's voice sighed from his phone, "But the little challenge I gave you proved to be way too easy for you. There's no fun in that. This is much more entertaining to watch."

"I _will_ get out of here, and when I do-"

"So sure you are of yourself," Moriarty laughed, "I'm not quite so sure. Who knows, maybe when I'm done watching this I'll go pay my little flower a visit and tell her what's happened."

"If you think for one second that-"

"Bye bye!"

"No! You listen-" His phone beeped to let him know that the call had been ended.

"Holmes, if we don't get out of here soon we're going to be cooked!"

"Yes I know!" Sherlock ran a hand over his face. He looked at his phone again, sending Arianna her prewritten text message.

_Otter -SH_

The text he sent Mycroft, however, was one of the two options they had prearranged. The one that meant that he wasn't sure he would be making it out alive, to get Arianna to safety. It also told him their location so that the survivors could be taken care of… or the bodies found.

He stuffed his phone back in his pocket and looked around. The panicked eyes of the Scotland Yard workers met his.

No.

He would not lose. He looked up above the flames, which now were making the ceiling more visible. The light that had been hanging and flickering before fell to the ground with a crash, sending sparks flying. The small flare this caused lit up something on the ceiling for a split second. Sherlock froze, straining his eyes. Yes, it was a water pipe. And if the prisoners had a working bathroom, that would mean that it was functioning. He pulled his gun out of his pocket and stepped closer to the flames. Aiming at the pipe, he fired, aiming to the left the first shot he fired again. He did this several times. Water sprayed from the holes. Soon the fire was shrinking. The water wouldn't extinguish the fire completely, but it would do enough to make them able to leave the building safely.

Sherlock arranged the people in a single file line and shepherded them towards the exit. He instructed them to stay as close to the walls as possible and face away from the fire. Unfortunately for him, he was not facing away from the fire. So, when a large piece of metal fell into the fire, causing sparks to fly, they grazed the side of his face. Luckily his eyes remained unharmed, but there was definitely going to be a burn on his cheek. His eyes watered from the pain but he carried on. Leading the hostages to safety.

* * *

When Arianna got the text from Sherlock her heart jumped.

_He's alive._

She almost forgot that the text meant that she had to get a move on, the relief distracting her from the still present danger. "Come Layton," she said, standing up.

Layton hopped down from John's chair, holding his stuffed tiger tight to his chest. Arianna picked up her suitcase and headed for the stairs.

When they got outside, one of Mycroft's black cars was pulling up. A man jumped out, holding the door open for her and scanning the area. Layton and Arianna climbed into the car. The man closed the door behind them, instead of getting in. Mycroft was sitting in the car waiting for them.

"Where are we meeting Sherlock?" She asked immediately.

"Um, yes. About that…" Mycroft said slowly, "We had a code word arranged as well. Two actually. One that meant that he was on his way, and another that meant that he… wouldn't be."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that Sherlock may not be meeting us."

"Where is he? Are we going to him now?"

"No, we are going to meet Ms. Adler, as planned."

"No! We can't! We have to go save him!" Arianna protested.

"Sherlock instructed me to go on as planned, to get you to safety."

"Who cares? Are you just going to let him tell you what to do? You have to save him! He's your brother!" Tears had started to collect in the corners of her eyes.

"I must ask you to calm down, I'm afraid you're scaring the boy."

Arianna turned to Layton, who was looking up at her with worried eyes. She had forgotten he was even there.

"Is something wrong with father?" he asked. She didn't answer, instead she just put her face in her hands and fell quiet. Sherlock was in trouble, and Mycroft wouldn't take her to him. She couldn't go herself because she didn't know where he was. She wished she had never let him go alone. She knew it would be a trap.

"Arianna, you must realize, Sherlock's message did not necessarily mean that he wouldn't survive. It just meant that there was a chance that he wouldn't be able to meet Ms. Adler with us. There was probably just a delay."

"Can't you call him?"

"It would be best not to distract him, as he is probably in quite a sticky situation at the moment."

"Then we should be helping him!"

"My men are already on their way to his location. They will inform me on his status."

"How can you be so calm about this? Don't you care if he dies?"

"You have to understand that it is quite often that Sherlock or I are in a position where our lives are at risk. This is not the first time my brother has gotten himself into trouble and I highly doubt it will be the last."

Arianna nodded, sniffling. Mycrofts phone buzzed.

"Speak of the devil," he smiled, "just like I said, Sherlock is fine, and he is on his way."

A great sigh of relief rushed from her lips, her shoulders slumping forward.

"Thank God."

"We will be arriving shortly."

* * *

Arianna held Layton's hand as they rode up the elevator in some side building of the airport.

"Where are we going?" Layton asked her.

"You'll see in just a minute," she responded, "you're gunna love this surprise."

Mycroft stayed silent beside them. The elevator stopped at their floor, the doors sliding open. They walked into a room, empty aside from a few tables and chairs. The far wall was made entirely of glass. Looking out of the window stood The Woman.

"Hello Ms. Adler," Mycroft said. The Woman slowly turned around, her eyes locking on the boy that was clinging to Arianna's hand.

"Layton?"

Layton studied her, confused. Suddenly, recognition bloomed across his face, "Mother?"

"Yes," Irene smiled, "It's me."

Layton looked up at Arianna, as if asking for permission.

"Go on," she said reassuringly. The boy took a few hesitant steps, before breaking into a run towards his mother. She crouched down, holding her arms out as he got closer. Layton threw himself into her arms. Irene hugged him tight to her chest, planting kisses on the top of his head.

"My boy, my boy," she murmured. She held him out at arms length, "You're so beautiful," she smiled tearfully, before crushing him against her again. She continued to croon quietly, saying things like, "Mummy loves you. Mummy missed you so much," petting him.

Arianna never thought she would see The Woman looking so vulnerable. She felt as if she was intruding by watching, but she couldn't help it. A smile grew on her face as she watched the reunion.

"Thank you," she said to Mycroft, who raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I know you probably didn't want to do her any favors after your last encounter. But…" she looked back at Layton and The Woman and smiled, "it was worth it."

Mycroft opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the elevator arriving behind them. Arianna spun around as Sherlock emerged from the doors. He looked disheveled, and there was what looked like a burn on his left cheek. She ran and practically tackled Sherlock, throwing her arms around his middle. Sherlock hesitated in surprise, before resting his hand on the back of her head.

"I was so worried," she whispered, her eyes clenched tight.

Sherlock said nothing, simply stroked her hair reassuringly as she buried her face into his chest.

"Father?"

Arianna let go reluctantly at the sound of Layton's voice, turning around.

"Yes?" Sherlock replied.

"Aren't you going to come say hi to mother?"

"Of course." The Woman's eyes widened as they met Sherlock's, as he crossed the room to them.

"Hello again, Irene," he draped an arm around her shoulders and placed a small kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you," she said, almost inaudibly. Sherlock smiled warmly at her.

Layton was grinning up at them, "Now we get to be together again forever!"

Sherlock's smile faltered. He crouched down so that he was at Layton's level.

"Actually, I'm afraid that's not true."

Layton's face fell, "Why not?"

"You and your mother are going to be going on a trip, but I have to stay here."

"Then I don't want to go on a trip. I don't want to go if you can't come," Layton said, his lower lip trembling.

"I know, I'm sorry. I don't want you to either, but you have to."

"I don't want to, I want us t-t-to stay with you father," Layton said tearfully.

"I'm sorry, you can't."

Layton burst into sobs, and Sherlock pulled him forward into a hug. "I know, I know," he said soothingly. He petted Layton's hair gently, letting him get the rest of his tears out before letting go.

"Everything will be fine," he smiled, "just behave and take care of your mother for me alright?"

Layton nodded, sniffling. The gratitude in Irene's eyes shone like a beacon. He gave her a nod. This is when Mycroft stepped in.

"You will be escorted to your plane, which is a private jet. There you will receive your new identity. I suggest that you stay there this time. I will not be granting you this favor again."

"I understand," Irene nodded.

They all exchanged final goodbyes before parting ways for the last time.

"I'm actually glad Moriarty decided to give us this challenge," Arianna said in the car on their way back. Sherlock didn't respond. "I'm happy that Irene got her son back. Although, I might miss having the little guy around."

Sherlock snorted, "Speak for yourself. I have no interest in children."

Arianna didn't argue with him. She also didn't mention the little smile that had crept onto Sherlock's face for the rest of the ride home.

* * *

Arianna listened to the sound of Sherlock's breath as they lay side by side in bed. They had been there for ten minutes, neither speaking. But she felt it was time to break the silence.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About… what you said, before all of this happened."

Sherlock's eyes scrunched closed, "There is no need to discuss it. I understand that perhaps my statement was unexpected and uncalled for. You can just forget about -"

"Sherlock, stop. I don't want to forget about it. It was definitely unexpected but-"

"I shouldn't have said what I said. I apologize if it put you in an uncomfortable position. I'll make sure-"

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock shut up. I love you too you idiot."

Sherlock's eyes snapped open, "You do?"

"Of course."

"You're not just saying it to spare my feelings?"

"Sherlock, not that I don't care about your feelings, but I wouldn't lie about this to spare them."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh." He turned over to face her. She smiled reassuringly at him, leaning in to give him a kiss. It was soft and gentle.

"Arianna?"

"Hm?"

"I… I love you."

She chuckled, "I love you too. Idiot."

He reached out to cup her cheek, before leaning forward to kiss her. This kiss was a bit less gentle, and it was shortly after that the kiss became nothing gentle at all. Soon, clothes were being peeled off and discarded, hands and mouths wandered. It wasn't long until all that separated their bodies from each other was Arianna's thin underwear. Sherlock's fingers brushed along the top of the elastic. He felt her tense underneath him as he touched the rose that was branded onto her hip bone. He brought his lips down and kissed it gently. He loved her. Every part of her. Scars and all. He looked up to see that tears had started to form in her eyes. He ventured back up to her lips, giving her slow sweet kisses to show how he felt, to show that he was in control. He would not hurt her. Not ever.

With those kisses he let his hand trail downwards and inserted a finger under the edge of her underwear. Slowly, he pulled them down. Arianna lifted her hips up, letting the fabric barrier slip away from her. When they had been lowered down to her knees, she kicked them off herself, leaving her bare and open. Her legs instinctively snapped shut. Sherlock smiled patiently at her, running a hand up her thigh, coaxing them open with kisses. Soon he had melted away almost all of her anxiety and had replaced it with a warm buzz that tingled all over her body. She was relaxed enough that, when he gently pried her knees apart, there was no resistance. He trailed kisses up the inside of her thigh, feeling her quiver with anticipation as he got closer and closer to where she was beginning to desperately crave his touch. When he reached it, he didn't continue. Instead, he slowly passed over it, moving on to the other leg, planting a line of kisses downwards.

"Tease…" she muttered between gritted teeth, fingers digging into the sheets. He chuckled. He wanted to continue this game, teasing her until she went insane. But this was about her tonight, not his experiments. There would be plenty of time for that later. Now he began to move back, his path quicker and with more purpose. When he reached the juncture between her legs again he hesitated, letting his breath whisper over her skin. Just when Arianna began to squirm before him, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. A shudder ran through her, along with a sound between a sigh and a moan. He smiled, placing more kisses. When he felt he had teased her enough like this, he started to deepen the kisses. His tongue prodded out, landing on the small bud between her lips. Arianna gasped, her toes clenching.

"Sherlock…" she whimpered. Sherlock could feel himself growing harder and harder. He had never thought that sounds and tastes such as these would ever stir any arousal in him, but he knew for sure now that he had been mistaken. He brought his hands up and spread her lips with his thumbs. He gently probed her entrance with his tongue, before sliding it back up to her now swollen and oversensitive bud. Her breath was made up completely of stuttering gasps now as he continued his teasing. He didn't have much knowledge of what he was doing except for the basic theories, but apparently he was doing quite a bit right.

"Sherlock, please," Arianna whined, winding her fingers into his hair and gently tugging him back up to her. He quietly obeyed her wishes, trailing kisses up past her stomach, chest, and neck until he reached her face. Her cheeks were rosy and her breath came out in shallow pants. He positioned himself so that his shaft rested against her lips. He brought his mouth down and gently sucked on her jawline, moving down to the nape of her neck. He latched on there, nibbling the slightest bit. Arianna's hips raised in response, causing his head to slide between her this as a sign to continue, he position his hips so that he could press gently against her entrance.

In spite of how badly she wanted this, how badly her body wanted this, Arianna still felt a flash of fear in the pit of her stomach. She stopped breathing as she felt him start to push against her opening. Unbridled panic began to rise in her throat.

"Sherlock," she burst out, against her own will.

Hearing the difference in her voice Sherlock looked up, locking eyes with her. He recognized the terror in her eyes and almost pulled away.

But as Arianna looked into his clear blue eyes, she felt a calm settle over her. This was Sherlock, her Sherlock. He would keep her safe. There was nothing to worry about. She didn't even have to worry about becoming pregnant. In fear that her attackers would come again, she had gone in to the doctor's office and discussed her options for birth control. She had ended up getting some sort of pregnancy preventing insertion.

Sherlock watched the panic fade out of her eyes and kept eye contact with her as he readied himself again. His eyes never leaving hers, he slowly pushed inside of her. He marveled at the hot, pulsing muscles that clenched him tightly. When he had slid in about three quarters of the way, her eyes fluttered shut. He stopped.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, you can move."

Sherlock pushed in deeper, lowering his lips to her neck again. He brushed his lips along her skin as he started to pull out.

"Come on Sherlock," Arianna practically growled, "I said _move._"

Obediently, Sherlock pushed back in, with more force this time. Arianna brought her hands up to his back, fingers tracing patterns as he started slowly picking up his pace. She moaned softly as he picked up a suitable rhythm. Her fingers dug into his back as he thrust faster and faster.

Sherlock was having trouble maintaining control as he felt himself climbing higher and higher. The feeling was unparalleled to any sensation he had experienced before. He could feel his grip on coherency slipping as a heat began to build up in his groin. Arianna's moans were becoming louder and louder beneath him.

"Sherlock… I…" she gasped. He bit down on her neck as he felt himself getting closer and closer. As he bit her he felt her climax underneath him. The clenching of her muscles around him and her loud moans were enough to drive him over the edge as well, and with one last powerful thrust he spilled his seed into her. He kept pumping, riding them both through their orgasms until finally slowing down to an exhausted stop. He gently lowered all of his weight onto her, spent.

The room was silent, apart from their heavy breathing. After a minute or so, Sherlock pulled out of her, rolling to her side.

"So," she laughed breathlessly, "Wish you hadn't been so obstinate about not having sex?"

He traced circles on her shoulder with his finger, "No."

"No?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious, "Was it not good for you?"

"No, no, it was extraordinary," he insisted, "Which is why I'm glad I waited… This was perfect, and I wouldn't wish for it to have happened any other way." He wouldn't look at her in the eye. All of this was crossing so many of his previous boundaries. He didn't think he could handle being this emotionally vulnerable for more than a second.

Arianna grinned, "I'm glad too." She snuggled up against him. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"It looks like we're winning."

Sherlock smiled, "Yes… yes we are."

* * *

_AN- I'm not gunna lie, I honestly don't know much of anything about writing smut scenes and stuff... I hope I did okay. Thanks for reading up this far! I actually hit the two hundred page mark in this chapter! You guys are great and I'm so grateful for your reviews! Until next time! _


	34. Jealousy

**Ahhh I know! I'm a horrible person! I haven't updated in THREE MONTHS. I'M SORRY. kjs;gjrasdglk**

**I can't really blame it on anything but a lack of motivation but luckily it's summer again so that means I'll have plenty of time to make up for my absence! I've already got most of it planned out in my head, it's just a matter of getting it all written down! I've also started writing a Supernatural Fanfic if any of you are interested in that but I promise I'll give this one more attention! I'm sorry that this chapter isn't AS long as some of my previous ones but it's not too short and the next one will be out very soon! Thank you for the reviews! Reading them all again is actually what really motivated me to keep writing and tearing the words from my brain and onto here. Thank you, thank you! 3**

**-Ari**

* * *

Sherlock traced the purplish splotch that decorated Arianna's neck as she slept next to him. The sun was well above the horizon, but Sherlock didn't want to move and disturb her to see what time it was.

Intriguing, bruises were, a beautiful smudge of different shades of purple, blue, and green. Sometimes they were yellow as well, but this small bruise in the shape of two mirrored crescents hadn't quite passed the blue and purple phase. He had been told multiple times just how disturbing his fascination with bruises were, but although he could hardly get enough of studying them, he would never dream of purposefully marking her skin with them. He may be a bit twisted, but he was not that malevolently cruel. Although, he smiled to himself, she had certainly seemed to like his "love bite." Yes, he would take a note of that; biting was good. Perhaps he would have more to study if they continued their activities.

Not that there was really any "if." He could count on Arianna's teenage hormones, now that she had managed to overcome her fear. Just thinking about the possibilities made his breath begin to quicken. Unfortunately, Arianna had become a very sensitive sleeper in her time with Sherlock, and she began to stir.

"Sherlock..." she murmured, her eyes fluttering open.

"Good morning," he said softly, "Or maybe even afternoon. I haven't the slightest idea."

"Well that's very un-Sherlock of you," she laughed, stretching.

Sherlock sat up and checked the time, "Afternoon it is then."

Arianna sat bolt upright. It was nearly one in the afternoon.

"Sherlock."

"Hmm?" he murmured lazily.

"Lestrade will probably be here any second." Lestrade always did a follow up after they had solved a case.

Sherlock groaned, "Why's Lestrade always have to ruin everything?"

"It's karma for you always cockblocking John."

Sherlock scoffed.

"Deny it all you want, Karma's comin' after you."

He rolled his eyes. Of all the things he had managed to teach her, he hadn't been able to erase some of her pointless superstitions.

"Alright, go ahead and roll your eyes, I'm gunna go shower."

Sherlock made a noise of protest, but Arianna was quick enough to evade his hands as they swiped in her direction in an attempt to hold her prisoner.

"Put some clothes on before Lestrade gets here," she said as she pulled on a pair sweatpants that had been discarded onto the ground. Sherlock snorted, something as inconsequential as a visit from Lestrade was hardly reason enough to put on clothing.

"Why are you getting dressed if you're going to take a shower?" Sherlock said, his voice almost a whine as she pulled a T-shirt over her head.

"Because of reasons," Arianna muttered. In truth, she didn't want to walk even as far as the hallway while naked, let alone all the way to her closet to get new clothes. It didn't feel safe. It wasn't that she was scared. If Moriarty or his men showed up here she would shoot them without hesitation. She was just... cautious.

And rightly so, she realized as she walked out of Sherlock's bedroom. But not for the reason she had expected. Sitting in one of the kitchen chairs was Lestrade, seeming as if he had been there to whole time.

Shit.

"Uh, hi," she smiled nervously. Lestrade simply stared, his expression withering. "Well.. I'm just gunna go take a shower..." she quickly retreated to the bathroom, all thoughts of her closet wiped from her mind. She had no interest in sticking around to see Lestrade's fury unleashed.

As she closed the door behind her, she could hear Sherlock emerging from his room, no doubt receiving the same glare from Lestrade that she had gotten, if not a worse one. She heard Lestrade start talking, but the sound was then drowned out by the rushing water as she turned the shower on. A few minutes in, the sound of raised voices could be heard. Arianna sighed and rinsed out her hair. The yelling was getting louder and louder.

Though she knew Lestrade only had the best intentions, she was going to have to end this argument before he got out of hand. For such a kind man, his temper was sometimes incredible. Although, she was sure Sherlock was probably being just as thick-headed, and probably a lot more rude. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to leave them alone to fight after all.

They didn't seem to notice when she turned the water off, as the yelling had still continued. In fact, it sounded as if they were getting even louder. She hastily dried off and pulled her clothes on. When she opened the bathroom door, the ruckus in the living room suddenly fell silent.

"What?" she said loudly, walking into the living room, where the argument had apparently shifted to, "It's me that you're arguing about. Why would you stop once I'm finally here to speak for myself?" She looked at Sherlock, whom of course didn't have enough sense to put on anything more than a sheet.

Lestrade took a deep breath, "Arianna, you have to understand that I'm just trying to be responsible. I only want-"

"What's best for me yeah I get it," she sighed, "But _you_ have to understand that maybe you don't really know what that is."

"Arianna he's twenty-eight! You're just a-"

"I swear to God you better have been about to end that sentence with 'wonderful person who deserves better than this idiot,' because if you were going to say 'just a kid' I may have to rip your throat out," Arianna cut him off loudly.

"Arianna..."

"Saying my name at the beginning of every sentence isn't going to make me more likely to listen to you. I know that trick. I'm not an idiot."

"Legally you are a child."

"Yes and in a month and eight days that won't be true anymore. Tell me, do you really think that I'm going to magically mature even more before then? Will one more _tiny little month_ make me adult enough to you?"

"Well I-"

"And are you trying to tell me that you _expect_ something _else_ to happen to me to wipe away the rest of my childlike innocence?" Her voice started to grow louder, "Which I _assure_ you there isn't really much left of. "

"No of course not," Lestrade stammered, practically shrinking as he retreated into his seat.

"So what's the problem? It's not like I'm marrying him! There's no binding contract. I can get out of this any time I want to. I'm hardly in any more danger than I was before. Hell, I already live with the guy and look where that's gotten me! So it's not as if I don't know what I'm getting into. Do you really think that if I was going to get scared off by his lifestyle that I would be dating him? If I couldn't handle the danger I would've been gone within a week!"

Sherlock was smirking as he watched Arianna tear into Lestrade. It funny to see a grown man back tracking so quickly at the words of a girl half his age. It had been impossible for him to get through to the DI but of course she was having no trouble at all, Lestrade deflating like a punctured balloon within a minute.

"He may not be what's _best _for me. I mean, he can be a complete idiot when it comes to other people's feelings sometimes, and he can be selfish and rude, and out of the two of us, _he's_ probably the most childish, but he's Sherlock and he's who I want. Quite frankly the idea of spending my life with him doesn't sound all that bad so if you're hoping that this is just some phase you're wasting your time."

Lestrade was silent for a few moments, making sure that she was finished before sighing, "I suppose there's no convincing you then." He stood, "If this is really what you want then I suppose I can't stop you. At least not with the law, even though I wish I could. Just uh..." he ran his fingers through his hair, "Be careful okay? And Sherlock?" he turned to him, Sherlock's expression was no longer smug, instead it was almost sad, "Don't make me shoot you. Okay?" Sherlock nodded. Lestrade ran his fingers through his hair.

"Well, the reason I came today was because apparently some of the officials wanted to have some ceremony of gratitude. I told them you probably wouldn't be interested, but they insisted."

"Ooh, sounds exciting," Arianna smiled, "Do I get honorary gratitude too? I'd like to think I helped quite a bit."

Sherlock shook his head, "I think it'd be best to keep you out of the papers. We don't want any more attention drawn to you than necessary."

Arianna sighed heavily, "I guess... It's probably better that way anyways, I wouldn't want my parents finding out that I've been involved with this kind of stuff."

"Wait," Lestrade blurted out, "Your parents don't even know that you've been doing all this?"

"Not really, no."

"And I suppose that me thinking that that's not what's best for you either is also mistaken," he said through gritted teeth.

"You would be supposing correctly, yes," she replied offhandedly.

"I swear to God she's becoming a miniature you," Lestrade huffed.

"That was the original plan, wasn't it?" Arianna smiled.

Sherlock didn't seem to be listening. In fact, he was just staring at her in a most peculiar manner.

"Alright," Lestrade shifted awkwardly, "Well, the ceremony is tomorrow at eight and there will be a dinner afterward. I'll see you then."

"Bye!" Arianna called cheerfully as he disappeared through the doorway.

"I don't want you to be exactly like me," Sherlock said suddenly as the door downstairs shut.

"What?" she replied, confused.

"I don't want you to be a miniature version of me," he said, "I want you to be you."

Arianna nearly laughed, but saw the expression on his face and stopped herself. "I'm not exactly like you," she said soothingly, "I've just caught a few of your habits and behaviors. Do you really think I have a weak enough personality for it to just get pushed aside like that?"

"I suppose not," Sherlock said, his lower lip sticking out a bit.

Arianna sighed and stood up, going to sit on the arm of his chair.

"Besides, you're the great Sherlock Holmes, why wouldn't it be better to be like you?"

Sherlock grunted, "Because, contrary to what many people may believe, I'm not in love with myself," He shifted a bit in his seat, looking down and hesitating before looking back into her eyes, "I fell in love with you."

She couldn't help the grin that spread over her face, "You are so adorable when you're talking about your feelings."

Sherlock's cheeks flushed as he scowled.

"Don't be embarrassed," Arianna said, leaning over to kiss the frown from his lips, "I love it."

"There's one other thing we should talk about."

"Hmm?"

Sherlock bit his lip a bit, worrying her. There wasn't much that could really make him nervous like this, and she doubted it would be good news.

"You said that you wouldn't mind spending the rest of your life with me..."

"Yeah?"

"Given my profession... I'd thought you would realize that that's not a very realistic hope... At any point, I could be killed."

"Sherlock-"

"Let me finish," he held a hand up, "I have never counted on the idea that I would survive past my thirties. I'm not afraid of death, then again I haven't really had to worry about leaving anyone behind until recently. Now I have both you and John, whom I have learned would not react well to my demise, so I am a bit more concerned about my life now than I was before. But worse than that possibility is the chance that you might be taken from me. It's already been shown that my enemies are willing to hurt you in order to get to me. The longer you stay with me, the more danger your life is in. It would not be safe for you to spend the rest of your life with me, even if I do manage to live that long."

"So you're saying that I should just go home to America when I have to and never come back?" Arianna asked incredulously.

Sherlock didn't answer.

"Well that's not gunna happen," When Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, she covered his mouth with her hand, "I'm not gunna let you die, and you're not gunna let anyone hurt me."

"There's no guarantee that you could possibly-"

"And there's no guarantee that a member of any ordinary couple won't get hit by a car, or lightning, or get cancer. Whenever you love someone, you have to accept the fact that one day they might be ripped from your grasp. Everyone has a possibility of dying at any second of any day. Hell, I could die tomorrow falling down the stairs. Soldiers, police officers, and firefighters all have dangerous jobs that could cost them their lives, but they don't sacrifice being in a relationship because of it. No one can guarantee that they'll live to see tomorrow, but we can't live being afraid of that possibility. I'm not leaving you unless you completely screw up and somehow give me a reason to not love you, which will be pretty damn hard."

Sherlock looked at her silently for a moment. Then, "You should really become a lawyer."

Arianna laughed, "So I've been told. I'd hate memorizing all of that law crap though. And law school? No thanks."

"Well I suppose you're stuck with me then," the corner of his mouth quirked up.

"I guess you're right," she sighed, "How awful!"

Sherlock elbowed her playfully. Arianna draped herself across him and said, "What on Earth am I going to wear tomorrow?"

"I'm sure you have something, your closet it filled to the brim."

"I don't think so... I think I'll have to shopping today."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Women."

"You can hardly talk, you've got like ten different suits, and they all look the same!"

"You have the exact same dress in four different colors."

"It was a cute style and I couldn't decide which color!"

"You probably have more shirts than I have all kinds of clothes put together."

"Well, I just like to have a lot of options okay. You have a signature look. You don't need any more than that."

"Signature look?"

"You know, dress pants and shoes, nice button up shirt, sometimes looking as if it's going to tear open at any second, and an optional suit jacket and usually your coat."

"That was an incredibly boring and nondescript description of my clothing. I'd expected better."

"Sorry I'm not really concerned with brand names."

"You should be. If you want a good quality suit then-"

"Good thing I'm not interested in buying an suits then."

"You are so stubborn."

"Well there's a prime example of the pot calling the kettle black."

Sherlock stuck his tongue out at her.

"Well," Arianna said, rolling off of Sherlock, "I think I'll go shopping now. Who knows how long it'll take to find something?"

"You're going to run out of money one of these days and you'll regret spending it all on clothes," Sherlock called after her as she went into her closet. Her only reply was a loud laugh as she disappeared through the doorway.

* * *

"John's coming home tomorrow," Arianna said as she looked through her earrings, "It's a shame he's going to miss tonight."

Sherlock just grunted in response.

"We'll have to clean the house," she added.

"That's hardly necessary, it's not as if he isn't used to the mess."

"Yeah, but I think it'd be nice for him to come home to a clean house."

Sherlock muttered something unintelligible.

"Ugh!" Arianna threw her hands up, exasperated, "I should have bought new earrings yesterday!"

"Why not wear those?" Sherlock gestured to the pair in her hands.

"The red is totally wrong, it doesn't match!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "They're fine. It's not as if anyone will notice. Nearly all of those attending will be middle-aged men who are too busy being concerned with their own importance to notice you."

Arianna scowled, "Well thanks, it's good to know that I'm not noticeable. I thought the dress was pretty eye-catching myself."

She was right of course. Not only was the dress itself quite attention grabbing, sparkling and sequined, it hugged her body in all the right places. In Sherlock's mind though, it was all the wrong places. The last thing he needed was a bunch of old jackals focusing their attention on her.

"Wait!" Sherlock snapped out of his reverie at her exclamation, "These are perfect!" She dug out a pair. Looking at them, she frowned, "If only they weren't roses. It's a shame, I used to love roses... now they're just..." she shook her head, "Oh well. No point in letting something like that keep me from wearing them." She turned around, "How do I look?"

Sherlock looked up at her. She looked stunning of course.

"Too much make up," he said, looking back down at his shirt cuffs, fiddling with the buttons.

"What? I'm not even wearing much at all."

"I disagree."

"I'm really not. I think it looks good."

"I like you better without it."

Arianna smiled, walking over and kissing him on the cheek, "That's very sweet," she turned back around to grab her shoes, "But I'm not taking it off."

"Fine," Sherlock sighed.

"I don't have to try to impress you anymore Sherlock, all I have to do to get you to sleep with me is take my clothes off and get in your bed now."

"That's only half true."

"How so?"

Sherlock smirked, "I hardly think the bed is a required factor."

Arianna felt her face flush. The mischievous glint in Sherlock's eyes made her mind flash to all sorts of unconventional places where they would tear at each others' clothes and... She swallowed and shook off the thoughts.

"Isn't it a bit too soon for you to be thinking about kinky kitchen sex?" her voice broke a bit as Sherlock turned away, adjusting his tie.

"Hardly, considering that I've been having sexual urges for a few months now. And because we never actually engaged in intercourse until two days ago, it gave plenty of time for fantasizing. After a while, such things progress from the bedroom." He spoke as if he were talking about something as ordinary as the weather.

"Fantasizing?" Arianna's voice came out in a squeak this time.

"Yes," Sherlock turned to look at her, his eyebrow quirked up. His expression became amused as he saw the look on her face, "Surely you had realized that would happen. From what I know it's completely common."

"Well, no, I uh never..." her face was nearly glowing red.

A slow smile spread across Sherlock face as he stepped closer, "Well it only makes sense that eventually I would, and that it wouldn't take much time for my imagination to wander away from the bedroom. After all," Arianna's back bumped the wall. Holy shit, when had he gotten so close? "there have been many times when I've found you irresistibly attractive in many places other than my bedroom. Why limit my thoughts to there when you look so good right here?" Arianna tried not to notice the change to present tense as she stuttered unintelligibly. She tried to look away but found her gaze trapped in Sherlock's. That was when she noticed something.

His pupils were completely normal, no dilation. She was sure hers were blown wide right now. Sherlock was completely uninvested in everything he was saying. How could she be surprised? Of course he was messing with her on purpose. He was probably conducting some sort of experiment to see how much he could get her undone with simply his words. She was failing miserably of course. She took a moment to compose herself, watching Sherlock's expression grow a bit confused as she stopped stuttering like an idiot. She'd show him she wasn't some experiment. Two could play at that game.

Sherlock was wondering why his words had suddenly stopped having an effect on Arianna when he was pulled forward by his tie. His hands flew up instinctively to brace himself against the wall as his face was brought forward. He opened his mouth, expecting a kiss, but instead found his face beside hers as she whispered in his ear,

"You mean like that time in the landing, after you had gone to get milk? You had me up against a wall," she pulled him closer, "we'd gotten so close to just ripping our clothes off and shagging right. there." She smiled as she felt Sherlock's muscles tense, "When you watched me going up the stairs, you were thinking about it then, weren't you?" Her voice was an almost inaudible whisper, her lips brushing against his ear, "You wanted me on that staircase, or bent over, holding on to the railing. You can hardly resist yourself with me up against this wall," she slipped into the present tense just as he had done, feeling the steady increase of his breath rate. With this, she let go and pushed him gently off of her, "I can't believe I hadn't seen it before." She grinned at Sherlock, whose pupils had expanded, mouth hanging open slightly. She winked and walked to the table to grab her purse. "We should probably get going. You wouldn't wanna be late to your own award ceremony."

Sherlock was too busy thinking. The little minx had thrown his experiment right back at him. He would have to make sure he caught her more off guard. How had she caught on to it though? Before he tried again, he'd have to know what gave him away the first time.

"Sherlock?"

He snapped out of his reverie, "What?"

"Come on, we don't wanna be late."

"That's debatable."

"_I _don't wanna be late."

"Fine," Sherlock sighed, He'd have to think about this later. Maybe during the ceremony. They were always so boring anyways.

They put their coats on and headed downstairs. Before she opened the door to leave, Sherlock couldn't help but notice Arianna's eyes flit around the room, her cheeks turning a bit pink. He grinned. Maybe this challenge wouldn't be so hard after all.

* * *

Sherlock was right. Who knew that a dozen old men could draw out a simple thank you into an hour and a half long ceremony, that had Arianna dozing off three times? When it was finally over, and they put a large medal around Sherlock's neck, Arianna was ready to run out of there quicker than lightning. All she could think of was getting home and forgetting about the whole thing. That was, until her stomach gurgled loudly.

"Thank God for the dinner, I'm starving," she sighed as she and Sherlock made their way to the dining hall, "It's the least they can do for putting us through that monotonous snooze-fest."

Sherlock chuckled, "I told you it was nothing exciting."

"Yeah well you think almost everything is boring, you should have said that it was _actually_ boring."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "We could just go home now."

"No way. You may be able to survive for days without food, but that doesn't mean I can."

"Alright but let's try to hurry up about it. You think the ceremony took a long time, wait until you see how long they can go on about themselves."

* * *

Arianna had no idea what on Earth she was eating, except that it involved pasta, but damn it was good. After staring at the menu for a good two minutes and having absolutely no clue as to what the exotically titled dishes were, she had picked something at random from the menu. Sherlock was next to her, talking to some man that reminded her of a goat, from his beard to the whiny, almost bleat-like, sound of his voice. She was quite surprised at how polite Sherlock was being. She could tell the man was boring him to death, yet he kept a calm and interested expression on his face.

She wasn't doing nearly as well. The man to her right was talking her ear off about his fancy vacation to Venice. She was only paying enough attention to insert "mhm"'s and "My goodness"'s in the right places. When she eaten all of her food and had nothing else to distract her from his droning about the "fascinating culture" he had witnessed, from what she had gathered was a sparkling clean hotel in a high class bubble with absolutely zero actual Venetian influences, she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

She didn't actually have to go to the bathroom, so she just stood in front of the mirror. She stared into her own eyes as if it were some competition, even though there was literally no way she could win or lose. She should have stayed at home. This ceremony and banquet really wasn't her thing. She hadn't gone through any upper class training, talking about boring things like the price of silver or the inefficiency of certain trading strategies. Any man who had been drawn in by her flashy attire soon realized this and quickly lost interest. They all probably thought she was dull, when in truth they were the most dreadfully boring group of people she had ever laid eyes on. As she opened the door to leave another woman came through and crashed into her, dropping her purse.

"I'm so sorry," Arianna said, picking up the purse for her.

"It's quite all right," the woman smiled, taking it from her, "Wait, are you from America?"

"What gave it away?" she laughed, "The accent or the complete lack of grace?"

"I was just in New York a month or so ago with my husband, it was remarkable."

"That's nice, I've never been."

"Where are you from?"

"Oh, just a small town in Michigan. I love your necklace by the way." It was a beautiful, it looked like she had tiny shining water droplets beading down her chest.

"Thank you! My husband had it made for me, one of a kind. They're blue diamonds." Arianna's mouth almost dropped. They were all diamonds?

"Wow, that's amazing. Well, it was nice speaking to you."

"Yes, you as well." Arianna walked away from the bathroom. She wasn't, however, quite ready to go back to the table yet. She wasn't really interested in reengaging conversation with the old man. Instead, she made her way to the bar to the side of the room.

The attendant behind the bar looked surprised as she sat down. He looked around twenty and had dark brown hair and warm brown eyes. Topped off with a nice white suit and a black bow tie, he was overall quite nice to look at.

"If you want a drink miss," he said in a very respectful tone that Arianna was not used to be addressed with, "You could have asked one of the waiters. They would have gladly brought it to your seat."

"Nah," she shook her head, "I'd rather sit up here and get away from all the old men who think I'm interested in the politics of some silverware company."

The boy smiled, "New around these sort of things?"

"This is the first event of this sort that I have ever been to, and I don't plan on attending any more."

"Who are you here with then?"

"I'm here with Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah, the guest of honor. Strange, I don't think I've ever seen him bring a date before. At least not a woman. Usually he has Doctor Watson with him."

"So that means he's brought a date every time then," she laughed, "John's away for the week, so I came along instead. I'm an exchange student, they're taking care of me while I'm here. My name is Arianna."

"Charlie," he smiled back, "Now what can I get for you?"

"Something sweet, but strong."

"Alright, something fruity for the miss, coming right up."

Arianna turned and observed the hall full of people. At a table close by, the woman she had spoken to in the bathroom was sitting next what she assumed was her husband.

"Here's your drink," Charlie said, setting a glass down on the bar. She turned back around and smiled at him,

"Thank you," she took a drink. It tasted like strawberries. "Tell me Charlie, is it true what they say about waiters and bar tenders? Do you really know all of these people's dirty little secrets?"

"I wouldn't say all of them," Charlie said leaning in, "but I do know quite a few."

"Alright, tell me."

"Well," he sighed, glancing around the room, "You see that couple there?" He nodded towards the woman Arianna had spoken to earlier and her husband. "That's Mister and Missus Rinkwell. Mister Rinkwell is the head of a very powerful diamond trading industry. Word is, their art consultant is sweet on the Missus, and has been puttin' the moves on her for about a year now. She hasn't fired him yet, so the attention must not be unwelcome."

"Not exactly," Arianna said, "She's faithful, at least for now."

"What do you mean?" Charlie asked, confused.

"Well, she's innocent in action, if not thought. One can't say the same about Mister Rinkwell."

"How do you know?"

"Well, if you look at her necklace, it's obviously very expensive, covered in blue diamonds. One of a kind. Her husband had it made especially for her. At least, that's what she thinks. If you'll look at the woman across the table from them," she nodded to a woman with blonde hair, "she has on a very nice pair of earrings. In fact, they look to be the exact same style as Missus Rinkwells necklace. I don't think it would be incorrect of me to assume that they are actually part of a matching set and that he had gotten it made, but couldn't decide which one of them to give it to. So of course he did what he thought was most logical and gave them both a piece from the set. It would also probably be safe to say that Mister Rinkwell did not tell his mistress this. He most likely told them both that their piece was individual and one of a kind. This of course was mistake, because now they are at the same table, wearing jewelry that obviously belongs together. The mistress will no doubt be upset, as I'm sure he has told her countless times that she is his one true love and all that nonsense to get her to keep sleeping with him, and I wouldn't be surprised if she throws a fit. Now if his wife were completely blind to his affair, she probably would see the jewelry and brush it off as a coincidence and tell herself that they simply look alike. But, from what you've just told me, I'm willing to bet that she was already suspicious of her husband's infidelity, which is why she hasn't fired their art consultant. She's keeping him around as a backup plan, just in case her husband leaves her for this woman, or if she decides she wants to start sleeping around to get back at him. Therefore, once she notices the woman's earrings, if she hasn't already, she'll realize that her suspicions were right and will either confront her husband or begin her own extracurricular activities."

"Wow..." Charlie said breathlessly, "that was amazing."

"It wasn't too hard, really," Arianna said offhandedly. In truth, she was getting a bit of a rush from that. Excitement bubbled in her stomach, mixing with the alcohol and making her chest swell with exhilaration.

"Do another one then," Charlie said grinning.

"Fine, let's take a look..."

* * *

Sherlock sat at their table, watching Arianna. She had been up there for nearly fifteen minutes now, talking to some boy behind the counter. Something sour churned in his stomach as he watched her giggle at something the boy had said. He tried to imagine what John would say.

_It's good for her to have interactions with people her age!_

And while he thought that it was a load of bull, listening to imaginary-John's point calmed him down a bit.

All of that calm went out of the window, however, when the boy leaned over and put his hand on her back, whispering in her ear. Sherlock stood up abruptly, not bothering to push his seat back in behind him.

* * *

"I dont want to alarm you," Charlie murmured into Arianna's ear. "But your guardian has been staring at us for quite some time now."

Arianna stiffened slightly. "It was probably a really bad idea for you to put your hand on my back then."

"Apparently so, he's coming over."

"Get out of my space then!" she hissed.

"Alright, alright," Charlie backed up.

Arianna finished her drink and set it back down on the counter.

"I think it's time for us to leave now," a deep voice said from behind, a familiar hand on the small of her back making breath catch. She turned around.

"Alright, let's go," she smiled, "It was nice meeting you Charlie!"

"The pleasure was all mine miss," Charlie said politely, keeping his eyes down, obviously making sure to avoid eye contact with Sherlock.

"Thank god that's over," Arianna said as they slid into the back of a cab.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine," Sherlock huffed.

She frowned, "I just went to get a drink and we talked for a bit. It was nice to talk to someone who didn't have their head up their own ass."

"Good to know that you find entertainment in talking to the _help_," Sherlock said the last word with surprising venom.

Arianna was taken aback. Sherlock had never been one to judge on class or occupation. "Sherlock! What is wrong with you?"

Sherlock simply stared out of the window.

"I had really hoped you would get over this jealousy thing of yours, but I should have known better."

"It's not jealousy," Sherlock snapped, "I don't need to be jealous if you already belong to me."

"What?" Arianna gaped, "News flash!" she said angrily, "You don't _own_ me. I'm not an object to be had, or fought over!"

"Well then, I suppose you're free to go do whatever you want with anyone then, if I have no claim over you."

"Sherlock..." Arianna sighed, "We were just talking."

"The boy obviously want more than just to talk to you. Don't you see what you're wearing?"

"Sherlock stop it. He did not want anything more from me, and even if he did, he wasn't going to get it! Who am I in a cab with right now? Who am I going home with?"

Sherlock muttered something unintelligibly.

"What?"

"I said me."

"Exactly. Now calm down. There is no need to get territorial and testosterone crazed. No one is going to steal me from you. If you lose me, it will be of my own free will and no amount of fighting of 'potential rivals' will stop it."

Sherlock grunted.

"Stop sulking," she said, exasperated, "You may not own me, but I'm still yours. For now." She reached out and took his hand. She felt him relax as his fingers wound between hers.

Sherlock leaned over and whispered into her ear, "Once we get back to the flat you will definitely be mine..."

A shiver ran down Arianna's spine. His voice was a pleasure in and of itself, as if she could feel the vibrations of his vocal chords throughout her body. It somehow held the beauty of heaven, yet all the seductive sin of hell, in it's low, gravelled rumble. He could have been talking about pine cones and it would still be one of the most arousing things she had ever heard.

"Alright," she nearly squeaked. Christ she was pitiful. She really needed to learn how to keep her cool in situations like this. She had done so well earlier. Now she felt like a whimpering innocent schoolgirl.

Sherlock chuckled and leaned back again, not looking out the window this time though. He just watched her for the rest of the ride home. Arianna tried to avoid looking at him in the eyes, but she could feel the heat of his gaze the entire time, making her face flush red.

* * *

It had taken all the coaxing Arianna could muster to keep Sherlock from jumping her right as they walked in the front door. But no amount of reasoning in the world was enough to stop him once they reached the second floor. One second she was walking into the kitchen, the next she was on the counter with her legs wrapped around Sherlock, her dress pushed up to her waist. All she could hear, taste, feel, see, or smell was Sherlock as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

Sherlock couldn't hold back his animalistic urge to mark his territory as they kissed each other heatedly. He took her lower lip between his teeth and pulled, hard. Arianna gasped, her hands faltering for a moment on his last shirt button. Sherlock stepped back just long enough to rip his shirt off the rest of the way before lunging back at her, his mouth finding it's way to her neck this time. Her gasps turned into whimpers as his kisses became bites that would no doubt leave numerous heavy bruises in the morning.

"Sherlock..." she whined.

"Mine." he growled into the nape of her neck. She was his, all his. Not Moriarty's, not Charlie's. His.

_Mine._


End file.
